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像爱丽丝的小镇|A small town like Alice

第七章|Chapter 7

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 阅读：[21212]
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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那双鞋是琴在卧室的化妆台上做出来的。更准确地说，她失败了两次，才最终成功做出一双能给自己穿的鞋来。

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这项工作从蒂姆·惠兰开始。蒂姆时不时为各个鞋匠制作鞋楦，内地的木匠必须十八般武艺俱全。琴把自己的一只鞋借给他，让他在他的木工车间里测量她的脚。他花了几天时间，用围篱树的木头给她做了一双鞋楦。她请彼特·弗莱彻帮忙寻找制作鞋底和鞋跟的皮料，他提供了几张晒干的牛皮，厚度大约适于做鞋底，还有一张用来做鞋跟的公牛皮。最初，衬里是主要的难题，直到有人提议使用幼年沙袋鼠的皮。彼特·弗莱彻出去射杀了一只沙袋鼠，剥下它的皮。由彼特·弗莱彻、阿尔·伯恩斯和当·邓肯组成的委员会负责在比尔·邓肯店子背后将其晒干。这项做鞋工作在威尔斯镇的生活中变得如此重要，琴推迟了去凯恩斯的旅程，一周又一周。

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用作衬里的沙袋鼠皮还未完工，所以琴用一块从小商店买来的白缎子做了第一双鞋的衬里。从一个旁观者和办公室职员的角度，她非常熟悉做鞋的每一个步骤，但她毫无实践经验，所以做出来的第一双鞋糟糕透顶。它们看起来是一双鞋，但脚尖部分太紧，箍疼了她的脚趾，鞋跟也宽了四分之一英寸。它们还弄疼了她的脚背。缎子衬里很不成功，顺着手指流下来的汗把整件工作弄得一团糟。但无论如何，它们总算是一双鞋，只要有人的脚恰好是这个形状，还是可以穿上它走路的。

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那么丢脸的一双鞋，她是不能拿下楼去给男人们看的。她开始做第二双。她让蒂姆帮忙改一下鞋楦，从小商店买来另一把刀子和一块小研磨石，再次开工。固化剂方面，她使用小管装的德克斯牌，也是从小商店买的。

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安妮对整个工作过程都表现出了浓厚的兴趣。在琴修边、打磨鞋底或者小心地把湿鳄鱼皮放到鞋楦上的时候，她常常过来坐在一旁仔细观察。“我觉得你真是太聪明了，居然会做鞋。”她说，“它们差不多就跟你能在商店里买到的那些一样好。”

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第二双有所进步。琴穿起来非常合脚，但袋鼠皮衬里不平整，还起块儿。整件工作也还是一团糟，鞋子沾满了汗渍和指纹。她不屈不挠地开始做第三双。既然无法裁剪沙袋鼠皮，这一次她把厚度均匀的小块皮革拼凑在一起做衬里。她大清早起来完成了最后的组装步骤，因为那时双手出汗最少。最终成果是一双水平相当高的鞋子。五颜六色的衬里非常丑陋，不过她可以穿着这双鞋去任何地方。

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她拿着三双鞋子下楼，把它们拿给门廊上的阿尔·伯恩斯看。阿尔招呼了另外两三个人过来，康纳太太也来瞧了一眼。“在英国，鳄鱼皮就是这么用的，”琴说，“人们把它们制成这样的鞋子。很漂亮，是不是？”

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其中一个男人说：“你自己做的吗，佩吉特小姐？”

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她笑道：“去问康纳太太。她知道我把房间搞得有多混乱。”

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那个男人把鞋子拿在手里翻来覆去地看。“哦，老天，”他慢慢地说，“就跟在商店里能买到的一样好。”

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琴摇摇头。“没有，”她说，“其实没那么好。”她向他指出鞋子的瑕疵。“我没有合适的曲头钉和固化剂。整体也很邋遢。我把它们做出来，只是想让你们看看他们都如何使用从杰夫那里买来的鳄鱼皮。”

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“我打赌你可以把它们拿去凯恩斯卖。”那个男人固执地说，“哦，老天，你绝对可以。”

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森·斯莫尔说：“这样一双鞋在英国卖多少钱？”

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“在商店里吗？”她想了一会儿，“我想大约四镑十五先令吧。我知道有四十五先令是制造商的利润，但还要算上消费品零售税和零售商佣金。”她顿了顿，“当然了，一双真正的好鞋子可能比这贵得多。人们说在有些商店里要卖十镑呢。”

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“十镑？那样一双鞋？哦，老天。”

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杰夫当时正在镇外沿河检查他布下的陷阱，所以她那天没有办法把鞋子拿给他看。她把鞋子留给男人们拿进酒吧去评头论足，自己去洗澡。那时她已经发现了在威尔斯镇洗澡的最佳去处，是安妮告诉她的。澳大利亚旅馆有女士专用的冷水淋浴，但水通常都很热，因为水箱曝晒于太阳底下。如果想泡个热水浴，完全有另一个办法。

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从那个钻头流出来的水形成一条小小的热溪，一座小木屋跨溪而建，与钻头的距离不远不近，屋内水温正好适合洗澡。人们在屋子里修建了一个粗糙的混凝土池子，大得足以并排坐进去两个人。拿着毛巾和肥皂进屋，把自己锁起来，就可以在流经池子的水里舒服地洗一个澡。温暖的流水饱含盐分，清爽非凡。

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琴躺在温暖的水中，独自一人锁在小木屋里。阳光从木缝儿里透进来，在水面跳跃嬉戏。自从她看到杰夫·波科克的鳄鱼皮，脑海里就产生了生产皮鞋的念头。从第一次见我并知道自己继承了这么大一笔财产开始，她一直深感困惑，有时甚至很苦恼，不知道该如何确定新的人生目标。她的教育背景或成长环境无法使她从容不迫地过上一种优雅的生活。她是一个有商业头脑的姑娘，习惯勤恳度日。现在她每年有九百英镑收入，放弃在帕克和利维公司的工作再自然不过，但她尚未找到一份新寄托，来填补生命中因此出现的空白。过去六个月中，她一直在下意识地苦苦探寻，希望能找到值得追求的目标。她唯一真正懂行的工作，是关于高级皮具的——用鳄鱼皮制成的鞋、手袋和化妆箱。她确实懂得一点制作和销售那类皮具的知识。

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她躺在这池药浴般的温水中，深陷沉思。假设这里有一个小工厂，里面有五个姑娘在工作，工厂外有一个小小的制革厂。她将需要两台手动印刷机和一台旋转抛光机，那意味着需要供电。她可以置办一个小小的发电机组，除非可以从旅馆买电。还要有一台空调来保持工厂凉快，避免姑娘们工作时满手是汗。做出来的鞋子一定要崭新干净，那是至关重要的。

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这样一个工厂能挣钱吗？她边躺着洗澡边默默计算。她发现杰夫·波科夫平均每张鳄鱼皮卖七十先令左右。那是未经加工的皮，她知道帕克和利维要为每张加工好的皮付一百八十先令。据她所知，修剪和晒干一张鳄鱼皮至多需要二十先令的成本，并且是以澳大利亚货币计算的。皮革应该会比在英国便宜很多。劳动力也应该更便宜。威尔斯镇的女性劳动力可能会比佩里维尔的便宜。但还要算上把鞋子运往英国的运费和销售商的代理费。

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她想知道帕克和利维公司会不会替她销售皮鞋。她知道帕克先生很早就对制鞋业务兴趣冷淡。他们确实也卖其他人的产品——那些由法国公司生产的手提袋，杜克霍·弗夏尔牌。尽管帕克和利维公司自己生产手提包，但也卖别人的……

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她想主要的问题不在于工厂本身。在威尔斯镇，劳动力和材料都很便宜，工厂应该是可以开起来的。但她能否将威尔斯镇的姑娘们训练成才，生产出品质过硬的一流产品，足以放在邦德街的商店出售呢？那才是真正的问题。

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她躺在这池药浴般的温水中，深陷沉思。

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当天晚上，她照常坐在门廊上的帆布躺椅里，森·斯莫尔向她走来。“佩吉特小姐，”他说，“有时间和我谈谈吗？”

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“当然了，森。”她说。

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“我一直在想你做的那双鞋子，”他说，“我想知道你能否教教我们的茱迪。”

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“茱迪多大了，森？”

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“十五岁，”他说，“明年十一月满十六岁。”

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“你想让她学做鞋吗？”

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他说：“我在想，不管是谁，只要能够做出一双真正的女式皮鞋，都可以把鞋子拿到凯恩斯的商店出售。茱迪马上就到找工作的年纪了。这儿没有任何可以让女孩儿糊口的工作。她将被迫像其他姑娘一样进城。嗯，对她母亲来说，那实在是太糟糕了，佩吉特小姐。我们就这么一个女儿——我们有三个男孩儿，一个女孩儿。如果她像其他姑娘一样去布里斯班，她母亲肯定要发疯的。我想，嗯，也许做鞋这件工作她可以留在家里做。无论如何，看来我们能找到你做鞋所需要的一切材料，就在威尔斯镇这儿。”

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“不包括皮带扣，”琴思考着说，“我们要设法找到一些皮带扣。”她一半是在自言自语。

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她想了一会儿。“森，那是行不通的。”她说，“你认为那双鞋很棒，但它们并不好。它们拿不出手。在英国，那样的鞋子是卖不出去的，高档皮鞋的消费群体是不会买它们的。我不认为你可以在任何一间一流的商店里出售它们，即使是在凯恩斯。”

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“我看着挺好。”他固执地说。

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她摇摇头。“它们不行。我以前是干这行的，森——我知道一双符合标准的鞋看起来应该是怎么样的。我不是说我们不能在威尔斯镇制造出一双像样的鞋子，我很想尝试一下。但要把这件工作做好，我需要机器、合适的工作台和手工工具，还有合适的材料。我能理解你关于茱迪的想法，也很想看到她在威尔斯镇工作。但如果要她独自应付这件事情的话，恐怕力所不及。”

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他敏锐地看着她：“你是在计划一间工厂之类的吗？”

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“我不知道。假如有人在这里开设一间类似的工厂，你们有多少姑娘可以上下午全职上班——如果每周给五镑的话？”

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“在威尔斯镇这儿？”

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“没错。”

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“要满多少岁你才收？”

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她想了想。“我想，等她们从学校毕业吧。那是十四岁，对不对？”

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“你不会付给一个十四岁的小姑娘每周五英镑吧？”

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“不。等她们受过充足的训练，成为熟练工之后。”

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他仔细算了算。“我想你能找到六七个十六七岁的姑娘，佩吉特小姐。之后还会有更多毕业生。”

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她把话题转向设厂的另一方面。“森，修建一个工厂要花多少钱？”

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“多大的？”

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她四处张望。“大约从这里到门廊尽头那么长，差不多一半宽。”

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“那是三十英尺长，十五英尺宽。你是指修建一座木屋，就像临时军用仓那样的，有一个铁屋顶，还有一圈窗户？”

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“就是那样。”

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他在头脑里慢慢计算。“大约两百镑。”

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“我想我要修一个双层屋顶和一个门廊，就像海恩斯警察长住的那间屋子一样。一定要凉快。”

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“啊，那会增加成本的。那样一间屋子，还要有四周环绕的门廊，要花差不多四百英镑。”

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“要花多长时间才能建好？”

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“哦，我不知道。要从诺曼顿买木材。我想蒂姆·惠兰和他的牧工需要用几个月时间把工厂建好。”

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还需另建楼房用于晒染皮革。“请告诉我，森，”她说，“这里的人会不会欢迎这么一间工厂？还是会觉得这个念头有点愚蠢？”

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“你是说，如果能让这儿的姑娘们留下来挣钱？”

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“没错。”

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“哦，老天，”他说，“他们会不会欢迎？只要能让姑娘们高高兴兴地留下来并且有活可干，不管是什么事情，这儿的人都会欢迎的。”他顿了顿，陷入沉思，“姑娘们背井离乡，在这个乡下地区很反常。”他慢慢地说，“我和老妈前几晚还谈论过这件事。很反常。”

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他们默默地坐了一会儿。“这事还要好好考虑一下，森。”她最后说。

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她乘坐下周三的空中列车离开了威尔斯镇，启程去凯恩斯。她花了两天时间才到达，因为空中列车向来就是那么不紧不慢的。飞机下午离开威尔斯镇，经停多个牛场，收发邮件，并把函授课程递送给在凯恩斯、邓巴、米兰达和万鲁克上学的学生。在最后一抹余晖中，他们于诺曼顿降落，开卡车进镇过夜。

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诺曼顿的旅馆跟威尔斯镇的很相似，但要大许多。琴和一位叫作麦肯齐的男飞行员一起吃饭。饭后两人一起坐在门廊里。她问诺曼顿是否有制鞋商。“我想没有。”他说。他向一位熟人喊道：“泰德，这里有人做鞋吗？”

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泰德摇摇头。“都是从伯恩斯·菲尔浦公司买的，”他说，“是不是想修鞋？”

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琴说：“不是——我只是好奇。这里的鞋子都是从城里进货的？”

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“没错，”泰德给自己卷了一根香烟，“我小姨在罗克汉普顿一家鞋厂工作。那儿是很多鞋子的产地。厂名叫万宁·库帕，在罗克汉普顿。伯恩斯·菲尔浦公司就是从他们那儿买鞋的。”

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琴问：“您小姨是在这附近出生的吗？”

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“克罗伊登，”他说，“她们父亲以前是在克罗伊登开旅馆的，但后来关掉了。那儿一家旅馆尽够了。现在就剩下布莱森太太那家。”

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“她没结婚吗？”

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“谁？埃尔西·彼得斯？”

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“就是在万宁·库帕工作的那位？”

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“她未婚。现在肯定是个负责人了，手底下有很多姑娘。”

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他离开后，琴问飞行员：“他是谁？”

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“他？泰德·霍纳。他在这里经营修车厂。”她记下这个名字，以供将来参考。

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他们第二天一大早重新出发，飞往凯恩斯。她坐车进镇，去海滨旅馆。她发现凯恩斯是一个繁荣的小镇，大约有两万人，坐落在入海口处，非常漂亮。那里有好几条挤满店铺的商业街，宽阔的马路中央设有花坛。整个小镇清一色的木楼房，几乎都是铁屋顶。凯恩斯很像她在电影上看到的美国南方腹地市镇，门廊覆盖着宽阔的人行道，人们可以站在阴凉之中欣赏商店的橱窗，但它那泼辣明亮的风格几乎与英国无异。她第一眼就喜欢上了凯恩斯。

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她从那里给我写信。她在汤斯维尔给我写了两封信。在海滨旅馆，她收到了我给她写的信。我想那封信在那里放了有一段时间了，因为她在威尔斯镇耽搁了一些日子。她写道：

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北昆士兰

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凯恩斯

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海滨旅馆

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我亲爱的诺尔：

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我昨天到达此地时，收到你二十四日的信，我想我从威尔斯镇写给你的两封信你也已经收到了。真希望我有一台打字机，因为这将是一封长信。我想我要买一台便携打字机，以便将信件副本保存下来——不是说那些写给你的信，但我开始考虑要在这里做生意了。

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首先，非常感谢你告诉我你为乔·哈曼所做的一切。你显然对他非常友好，如你所知，对他友好即对我友好。你说他花了那么多钱匆忙跑到英国去，只是为了再见我一面，我到现在还觉得难以置信。但我想这里的人都是那样做事的。我现在可以告诉你澳大利亚人有多么粗鲁，但我也可以说：我在内地遇到的人全都像乔·哈曼一样，很简单，很诚恳，很真实。

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好，然后让我谈一下威尔斯镇。我不知道当乔·哈曼再次见到我时，是否会依然如此渴望和我结婚。六年是一段漫长的时间，而人是会变的。我不知道我是否也依然渴望嫁给他。但如果我们到时不改初衷，他向你描述的威尔斯镇绝对是真实的。

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那里真的是糟糕透顶，诺尔。内地有些地方可以让人生活得充实愉快，像爱丽丝斯普林斯就是一个很不错的小镇。但威尔斯镇不是其中之一。诺尔，它绝对是最差的。那里没有任何女士用品，除了一个洗衣盆。我知道一个人没有某些东西也能生活下去，例如广播、唇膏、冰淇淋和漂亮的衣服。我就 能过得很好——我在马来亚时就是这样过的，但如果连新鲜牛奶和蔬果都没有，那就有点困难了。我想乔告诉您的一切都是绝对真实的。我不认为任何直接从英国过来的姑娘能在威尔斯镇生活得开心。我不认为我可以。

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而且，诺尔，我不希望看到乔尝试改变他的生活方式。他是一流的牛场经理，日后也会做得很好。我向各种各样的人询问米德赫斯特的经营情况，所有人都赞赏有加。当然，如果他能广为游历，学习其他饲养员的技术，会做得更好，但跟海湾地区的其他牛场相比，米德赫斯特已经相当不错了，而且每年都在进步。上一个经理把它搞砸了，他们是这么跟我说的，但乔在那里工作的两年期间表现出色。我所不愿意看见的是，乔只是因为跟一个不能，或者不愿在他工作所在地威尔斯镇生活的富小姐结了婚，就尝试去其他任何地方谋生。

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当然了，你很可能会说，他可以在一个好一点的镇附近找一个牛场，也许就在爱丽丝附近。我不确定那是否是一件容易的事情，关于这点我想了很多。但即使那是有可能实现的，我也不会太喜欢这个想法。米德赫斯特是一个很好的地区，雨水比英国更充沛。作为终身事业，我似乎觉得海湾地区比爱丽丝附近任何一个地方都更有发展前途。如果他只是因为我而弃优择劣，我不会感到高兴。那对于一个农场经理的妻子来说，并不是一个好开端。

83
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诺尔，你觉得我可以预支五千镑遗产吗？你总是试图强迫我接受的那个忠告，三思而后行，我将恪守它。如果我见到乔·哈曼，而我们仍旧想跟对方结婚的话，我会先等待一段时间，要是我能使他同意。我想先在威尔斯镇独立工作几年左右，再决定是否把自己的人生永远交付给它。我想看看，自己是否有希望适应那个地方。我想亲身试验一下。我希望看到，即使我是在英国长大的，也能够在海湾地区生活得很好，因为那里的居民都是如此正直。

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我想尝试经营一间小型工厂，用鳄鱼皮制作鞋子和手提包。我在上一封信里曾经告知。我了解这件工作，在海湾地区也能轻易找到除了金属配件以外的所有材料。我今早写了一封长信给帕克先生，问他如果鞋子质量过关的话，他是否愿意替我在英国出售它们，并请他告诉我，鞋子运抵佩里维尔后，他能为其开出的最高价格。此外，我还请求他给我列一张单子，写明我开办一间雇用多达十位姑娘的工厂可能会需要的东西，以及它们的成本，像打包机、带钻头抛光机和奈顿六号的缝纫机，等等。

85
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缝纫机是用于加工皮革的重型机器，是最昂贵的单项。我估计一切项目，包括修建工厂大楼所需的四百英镑在内，总共要花两千英镑左右。但恐怕我的计划并不仅限于此。如果我要给姑娘们开一间工厂，她们必须有地方消费。我想再开一间卖女士用品的店铺。

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不是大商店，只是一间小店铺。我想把它办成一间冰淇淋吧，有镀铬的椅子和玻璃面的桌子。我想在那里卖新鲜蔬果，如果实在无法从附近进货，就从凯恩斯空运过来。在内地，人们很愿意为新鲜蔬果花钱。我还想卖新鲜牛奶。乔将需要养几头奶牛。我想卖糖果，还有像唇膏、粉底、面霜和杂志那样的小东西。

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当然了，在此地设店的一笔巨大花销是冰箱和空调。我想这部分预算至少需要五百镑，再加上店面和店内陈设——总共需要大约一千两百英镑。那会形成大约两千五百英镑的资本支出。如果我能预支五千英镑遗产，就能够解决店铺和工厂的库存问题，雇用五六个姑娘，并且头一年无须出售任何产品。我想一年后就有盈利了。如果那失败了，好吧，那就实在是太糟糕了，我所有钱都赔进去了。

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我想做这件事情，诺尔。不仅仅是为了乔·哈曼和我，威尔斯镇的居民都善良正直，但他们的生活太贫瘠了。我想在那里工作几年，就当作自我磨炼，好让我在如此富有的条件下，不至于丧失谋生技能。我想，即使没有乔·哈曼，我也会想做它，但在我和他见面交谈之前，我还不能下定决心，并采取任何实际步骤。

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所以我想要的是五千英镑。拜托了，诺尔。如果我想继续实行我的计划，我能够得到这笔钱吗？

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五天后，我通过航空邮件收到了这封信。我把包含预算的段落用红色铅笔标注出来，在顶上做了一点笔记，然后把它送到列斯特办公室请他看。当天晚一点的时候，我走进他办公室。“你看过那位佩吉特姑娘写的信了吗？”我问道。

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他从面前的桌子上拿起它。“是的，我一直在看遗嘱。这个自由裁量条款是你自己起草的吗？”

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“是我起草的。”

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他微笑道：“我想它真是一个杰作。你完全可以在它的保护下解冻这笔钱。”

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“那大约占了遗产的百分之九，”我说，“用作商业投资，她打算亲自全职打理它。”

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“立遗嘱人并不了解她，是不是？”

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我摇摇头。

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“她二十七岁？”

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“是的。”

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“我想我们可以让她拿到这笔钱，”他说，“不然的话，扣留这笔钱的做法太极端了。在你起草的自由裁量条款下，我们完全有权力解冻这笔钱。她似乎是一个很负责任的人。”

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“我想花一天左右好好考虑清楚。”我说，“在我看来，对于她的计划而言，这笔资本好像太小了。”

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我把她的信放在一旁，晾了几天，因为我从不喜欢匆忙行事。经过细致的回忆，我似乎觉得，如果能尽我之力避免琴·佩吉特在这笔投资上亏损，已故的道格拉斯·麦法登先生就不会怪责我。我拿起电话，打给帕克和利维公司的帕克先生。

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我说：“帕克先生，这是欧文、达尔豪西和彼得斯律师事务所的斯特拉坎。我相信您收到了琴·佩吉特小姐的来信，她是我的客户。”

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“是的，没错，”他说，“您是她的律师，是不是？她的遗产托管人？”

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“是的，”我说，“我也收到了她的信。我在想，也许您愿意与我见面详谈信中所写事项，帕克先生。”

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“嗯，正合我意。”他回复道，“她问我要一张单子，列上她开这个小工厂所需要的东西。我已经把单子写好了，但还没有拿到所有的离岸价。”

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我和他约好下周五见面，按计划，他那时会在伦敦处理其他事务。到了约定的时间，他来到我办公室见我。他身材矮胖，精神焕发，是一个典型的工厂经理，手里拿着一个棕色包裹。

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“在我们开始谈之前，”他说，“请先看看这个。今天早上送到的。”他在我的桌子上打开包裹，里面是一双鳄鱼皮鞋。我好奇地拿起一只来看。

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“这是什么？”我问。

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“这是她给自己做的皮鞋，在这个叫作威尔斯镇的地方，”他说，“她告诉您做鞋的事儿了吗？”

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我摇摇头，兴趣盎然地细看它们，感觉很新鲜。“她自己做的？亲手做的？”

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“在旅馆房间里亲手做的，她是这么说的。”他回答。

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我把鞋子翻过来。“做得好吗？”

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“取决于你如何看它们。”他说，“如果以能否用于贸易为标准，它们糟糕透顶。看这里，这里和这里。”他指出众多不规则和粗糙之处，“这两只鞋甚至都不对称。但她知道这个问题。不过，一个从未做过鞋的打字员，能够在没有任何设备的情况下，在自己床上做出这样一双鞋，嗯，已经很了不起了。”

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我把鞋放下，递给他一根香烟。“她告诉您她的计划了吗？”

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他把从她那里听到的消息告诉我，我告诉他一些她写信告知我的内容，我们谈了四十五分钟。谈话快要结束的时候，我问他：“您实际上怎样看待她的计划，帕克先生？”

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“我不认为她能成功，”他直截了当地说，“实际情况跟她想的不一样。我认为她对制鞋行业了解得还不够，很难获得成功。”

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我必须说我很失望，但总算知道了真相。“我知道了。”我轻声说。

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“您瞧，”他解释道，“她没有经验。她是一个好女孩儿，斯特拉坎先生，而且很有商业头脑，但她没有制鞋出售的经验，也缺乏管理经验，管不住这些姑娘，无法迫使她们为了拿到薪水而卖命工作。她甚至要面对和英国不同的局面。对她来说，这些澳大利亚乡下姑娘们就像一大群外国人一样。她们也许愿意给她干活，但她们从来没有见过一个工厂——她们对工厂完全没有概念。她必须一边自己学习这件新工作，一边教会其他人。嗯，她做不来。”

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“我知道了。”我重复道。

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“我愿意帮助她，”小个子男人说，“但她要稍微改变一下想法。她再好好想想，就会发现她拥有很多有利条件。我必须说，读到她在信上说她花七十先令买到了一张未经修剪的鳄鱼皮，我惊讶得目瞪口呆。而且还是澳大利亚先令——也就是五十六英国先令吧。这儿每张未经修剪的鳄鱼皮要花我一百七十到八十先令，这些年一直是这么贵，我还以为自己捡了便宜！我跟利维先生说，我说，我们就是两个大傻瓜。”

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“您有什么好建议呢？”我问。

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“我是这么想的，”他说，“如果她能聘请一个女工头，并支付来回路费，我会让我手下的一个姑娘过去，在她开厂的头一年替她工作。我有一个干得不耐烦的姑娘——嗯，她至少有三十五岁了。她已经结婚了，但不和丈夫住在一起——分居很久了。她是战时国土辅助自卫队的中士，有一段时间在埃及服役，所以很了解热带国家。她叫阿姬·托普。让阿姬·托普负责的话，就永远不会有女孩儿胆敢在店里调皮捣蛋。”

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“佩吉特小姐认识她吗？”我询问道。

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“哦，是的，琴认识阿姬。阿姬也认识琴。事实上，阿姬昨天来递交辞职信。我把信还给她，好言相劝了很久。她每几个月就闹一次辞职，就像我说的那样，干得不耐烦了。后来我问她，去澳大利亚跟着佩吉特小姐工作一年怎么样，她说她愿意去任何地方，只要不用再排队领取那该死的口粮。如果琴需要她，她会出去一年的。她们都很喜欢琴。”

125
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我说：“你能放她走吗？”

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“反正她也留不长。”他说，“我不想失去她，也许我不会。如果她能去澳大利亚旅行，看见其他地方还不如英国好，可能就会回来，在我们公司重新安顿下来，并打消辞职的念头。”

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我们就此事谈论了一段时间。这位女士赴澳期间的路费和薪资总计大概三百英镑，但在我看来，如果它能帮助这笔投资成功度过开始的几年，倒也不算贵。帕克先生认为琴对其余部分的估价偏低，但也算不上离谱。“在高级皮鞋贸易中，你无法维持高度机械化生产的成本。”他说，“你必须不断更新款式。”

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关于皮鞋款式，他的建议是，他们可以时不时地通过航空邮件寄送样本到威尔斯镇，让琴的工厂依图生产。他非常愿意替她售卖鞋子。“注意，以我们的价位，我不知道她做不做得来。”他说，“我会告诉她我们的进货价，卖不卖由她自己决定。但我必须说，我想尝试一下跟她合作。因为有管制，在这个国家生产皮鞋已经变得非常困难。而且，人总是希望尝试点新鲜事物。”

129
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我诚恳地向他表达了谢意，他离开了。我把全部谈话内容写在信中，通过航空邮件寄给琴·佩吉特。我相信帕克先生也会以同样方式给她寄信。这两封信寄到后，她并没有立刻收到，因为她已经南下罗克汉普顿，寻找供职于制鞋厂的埃尔西·彼得斯。她非常节约地选择了火车，大约七百英里的旅程缓慢酷热。直到那时，她才意识到昆士兰是一个多么地广人稀的地区。飞机压缩了这个地区，去罗克汉普顿的五十一个小时把它重又延展开来。

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她找到了埃尔西·彼得斯。这次只持续了十分钟的会面是一次彻底的惨败。她们在鞋厂附近一个咖啡厅见面，琴一提出在海湾地区工作的话题，埃尔西马上告诉她不必白费口舌了。埃尔西很不情愿地承认，在海湾地区开办事业可能是件好事，但那与她无关。开弓没有回头箭，她是不会回去的。

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琴走出咖啡厅，在某种意义上，她感觉轻松了一些，但也深感沮丧。她不会雇用怀有那种心情的人，但她在这位陌生女士身上寄托了许多希望。她很清楚自己缺乏管理经验。组建工厂的想法萌芽时，困难还没有那么明显，但在筹备期间，它们开始接踵而至。她在旅馆非常沮丧地过了一晚，次日飞回凯恩斯，仿佛要报复那漫长的火车旅途。她发现飞机票价格几乎与火车票持平。

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她回到海滨旅馆后，发现我们的信都已经在那里等着她。她的精神也恢复了。她清楚地记得那个憔悴而严厉的阿姬，如果阿姬已经准备好要来昆士兰一年，对实现她的计划将大有帮助。我想，她在凯恩斯等待乔·哈曼期间，置身于如此多陌生人之中，渐渐开始感到孤独无助。

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她拖延了一段时间才给我们回信，因为在见到哈曼之前，她无法做出任何决定。她过后告诉我们，从罗克汉普顿回来后，住在凯恩斯海滨旅馆那三周，是她一生中最难过的时光。每个早晨，她在黎明寒冷的光线中起床，确信她在大大地愚弄着自己，确信自己永远都无法在这个古怪的国家安顿下来，她和哈曼没有任何共同点，可能她根本就不应该来见他。聪明的做法是坐下一班飞机飞往悉尼，买一张便宜的船票回英国，那里才是她的归属。到中午的时候，女侍者和老板娘那种粗朴的澳大利亚式友好，却又在她那反复无常的决心里播下怀疑的种子，整个下午像野草一样疯长。到晚上，她知道如果自己离开那个国家和那个地方，就会终身错失某些非常值得拥有的珍贵事物。所以她重新下定决心，一定要耐心等候。第二天早上，整个循环又重新开始。

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当然，从我的信中，她知道了哈曼坐的是哪艘船，很轻易地就打探到了它在布里斯班靠岸的日期。经过谨慎细致的咨询，她获悉他必须取道凯恩斯去威尔斯镇，并确知在船靠岸之后，她还要在凯恩斯等几天，因为他乘坐的船周一在布里斯班靠岸，而飞往海湾地区的飞机每周只有一班，在周二黎明起飞，两者永远接不上。她在威尔斯镇的时候知道了他会住在凯恩斯的海滨旅馆，所以她留在原地等他。

135
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她给他写信，请布里斯班的航运公司转交给他。这封信，她写得很艰难。最后她写道：

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亲爱的乔：

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斯特拉坎先生寄给我一封信，信上说你在英国的时候去拜访了他，并说你因为错失与我见面的机会而深感沮丧。可巧的是，我也在澳大利亚度过了几个礼拜。我会留在凯恩斯等你，希望在你回威尔斯镇之前可以见上一面。

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见面时请不要谈论太多马来亚的事情。我们都知道发生了什么事，让我们尝试把它们忘了吧。

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你会让我知道你的动向吗——你什么时候来凯恩斯？我真的很想再见你一面。

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祝安！

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琴·佩吉特

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她周二早上收到一封电报，上面说他将会留在布里斯班见米德赫斯特的主人斯皮尔斯太太，并于周四飞往凯恩斯。她到飞机场接他，感觉自己像个第一次赴约的十七岁女孩一样。这种感受真是荒唐透顶。

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我想，当空中列车飞近凯恩斯的时候，乔·哈曼肯定觉得忐忑不安。这六年间，他一直把这个姑娘的形象珍藏于心，但他根本说不出她在现实中的模样。他记忆中的姑娘有一头长长的黑发，扎成马尾，垂在背上，末端用小绳子扎起来，就像一个中国女人。她被晒得很黑，差不多和马来姑娘一样黑。她的上衣褪了色，破旧不堪，像一件衬衣，下面穿一条廉价棉纱笼。她赤着脚走路，一双很黑的脚，还经常脏兮兮的。她总是把一个婴儿背在臀上。实际上，他并不认为她在凯恩斯的模样还跟那时一样。想到自己很可能认不出她来，他感到既苦恼又担忧。不幸的是，她内心的人格光辉，那种令他对她仰慕不已的个性，凭肉眼是看不见的。

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他面临的困难对琴来说是显而易见的。她也一直在想，她为了他在房间里把自己打扮得如此花枝招展，不知道他是否能认出自己。她的结论是：他不能。她倒不担心自己认不出他来，因为他的改变肯定比她小。不管怎样，他手上有“圣痕”，那是错不了的。当空中列车在烈日下滑行的时候，她亭亭玉立地站在柏油路跑道的白色围栏旁，等候他的到来。

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他一走出飞机，她马上就认出了他的金发蓝眼和宽肩膀。他焦虑地东张西望，目光落在她身上，停留了一会儿，又滑走了。她盯着他，心想她是否看起来人老珠黄。她看见他用那种奇怪僵硬的姿势开始走向航空公司的办公室，心里划过一丝刺痛——关丹那件事在他身上留下了永难磨灭的印记。以她的智慧，她早料到会这样，但第一次见到这种步姿时，她还是觉得万箭穿心。

146
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她离开栏杆，快步穿过柏油路向他走去，喊道：“乔！”他停下脚步，难以置信地盯着她看。他在寻找一个陌生人，然而眼前这个姑娘，身披轻快的连衣裙，时髦漂亮，怎么可能会是她要找的人？最后一次看见她的时候，她站在马来亚的马路上，一脸悲伤，衣衫褴褛，黝黑肮脏，惨遭日本士兵欺负，脸上挨打的地方鲜血淋漓，脚上也血糊糊的。怎么会是同一个人？然后他看见她那个性鲜明的转头动作，回忆蓦地涌上心头——那又是土著太太了，是他这些年来一直记在心里的土著太太。

147
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他无法表达此刻的心情。他有点害羞地咧嘴而笑，说：“你好，佩吉特小姐。”

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她饱含深情地握着他的手，说道：“哦，乔！”他用手覆着她的手，俯视她的双眸，然后说：“你住在哪儿？在这里等了多久了？”

149
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她说：“海滨旅馆。”

150
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“真的？我也住在那儿，”他说，“我总是去那儿。”

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“我知道，”她说，“斯迈思太太告诉我的。”

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这里头有很多他不理解的东西，但他必须先挑要紧的事情做。“我去拿行李，等着我，”他说，“我们可以一起坐车进镇。”

153
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“我叫了一辆出租车，”她说，“别坐公共汽车去。”

154
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他们坐出租车进镇时，她问他：“斯特拉坎先生怎么样，乔？”

155
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“他很好。”他说，“我和他一起住了挺长一段时间，在他的公寓里。”

156
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“是嘛！”她不知道那部分，因为我没有告诉她。我告诉她的只是最关键的少量信息，因为很明显他们要见面的。“你在英国待了多久，乔？”

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“大约三周。”

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她没有问他去英国的原因，因为她已经知道了答案，而且在出租车司机身后深入谈论它也不太合适。他的问题也阻止了她发问：“你来澳大利亚做什么，佩吉特小姐？”

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她没有正面回答。“你不知道我在这里吗？”

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他摇摇头。“我只知道斯特拉坎先生告诉我的事情，他说你在东方旅游。如果我在布里斯班收到你的信，我会惊讶得目瞪口呆的。哦，老天，真的。请告诉我，你在凯恩斯做什么？”

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一丝微笑滑过她的嘴边。“那你在英国做什么？”

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他沉默不语，不知该如何回答。他没有任何现成的谎话。他们穿过镇子的郊区，路过教堂。“我们有很多事情要向对方解释，乔。”她说，“等你到旅馆安顿下来，我们再找个地方好好谈谈。”

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他们默默地坐着，一路到旅馆也没有说话。琴有一个朝门廊开的房间，可以俯瞰大海，远眺格莱弗顿海角后面覆满森林的荒山。他们约好，等他洗完澡后在门廊见面。她那时已经知道澳大利亚的一些习惯。“要不要来点啤酒？”她说。

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他咧嘴而笑。“好啊。”

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她请女侍应多丽丝拿来四瓶啤酒，三瓶给乔，一瓶给自己。大量的冷饮在那个炎热干燥的地方不可或缺。她感到，必须在四瓶啤酒的帮助下，他们才能敞开心扉对话，第一次在对方面前流露出真感情。这是澳大利亚的一个独特之处。

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她把两张帆布躺椅拖进她房间外面的阴凉处，啤酒和乔大约同时到达。女侍应离开后，就剩下他们单独相处了，她轻轻地说：“让我好好看看你，乔。”

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他站在她面前，细细欣赏她的美貌。他之前在马来亚见到她的时候，做梦都没有想到她是这样一个女孩儿。“你一点儿也没变。”她说，“背伤要不要紧？”

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“不怎么要紧，”他说，“不妨碍我骑马，谢天谢地，但我不能抬重物。医院的人告诉我，我永远都不能够再抬重物了，我最好别试。”

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她点点头，把他的一只手放到自己手上看。她把他的手翻过来，温柔地捧着，细看掌心和手背的巨大伤疤。他就站在她身旁。“这些呢，乔？”

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“它们没事儿，”他说，“我可以抓住任何东西——可以发动卡车，或者做任何事情。”

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她转向桌子。“喝点啤酒，”她递给他一个杯子，“你肯定渴了吧。这三瓶是给你的。”

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“好啊。”他拿起一杯，喝掉一半。他们一起坐到帆布躺椅上。“请告诉我你们后来怎么样了。”他问，“我知道你说过不要谈关于马来亚的事情，那真是一个鬼地方。我不想再记起它，但我真的很想知道你们后来怎么样了——离开关丹之后。”

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她抿着啤酒。“我们继续走，”她说，“渚蒲大尉当天就打发我们继续上路了，在——在那之后。我们继续沿着东海岸北上，只剩下中士一人做看守。我很替中士难过，乔，因为那件事情使他饱受侮辱。他一直对那件事情耿耿于怀，后来他发起了烧，并失去了生存的勇气。他在一个叫作瓜拉德朗的地方去世了，大约在关丹和哥打巴鲁中间的一个地方。那是在大概一个月后。”

174
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“那时他是唯一一个日本看守吗？”他问道。

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她点点头。

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“嗯，那之后你们怎么办？”

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她抬起头。“此后直到战争结束，他们让我们留在原地，”她说，“我们就住在村子里，在稻田里劳动，直到战争结束。”

178
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“你是说，在水里赤着脚踩来踩去，种稻米，像马来亚人一样？”

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“没错。”她说。

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“哦，老天。”他吸了一口气。

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她说：“那种生活并不糟糕。我想，比起战俘营，我更情愿待在那里——一旦我们安顿了下来。战争结束时，我们都非常健康。我们开了一间小学校，教孩子们知识。我们还教了一些马来小孩儿呢。”

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“我确实听到过一些类似的传言，”他思考着说，“在南方的朱利亚克里克听到一个飞行员说的。”

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她盯着他看：“他怎么知道我们的事情？”

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“他是1945年时驾驶飞机把你们带离马来亚的飞行员。”他回答道，“他说，你们被卡车送到哥打巴鲁，他负责开飞机把你们从哥打巴鲁送到新加坡。他现在在跨澳大利亚航空公司工作，飞汤斯维尔到芒特艾萨的航线。那条航线经过朱利亚克里克。我去年五月份在那儿见到他，那时我正在那儿将牲口装上火车。”

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“我记起来了，”她慢慢地说，“是一架澳大利亚空中列车带我们离开的。是一个瘦瘦的金发青年吗？”

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“应该是他。”

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她想了想。“他跟你说什么了，乔？”

188
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“就是我跟你说的这些。他说他把你们送到南边的新加坡。”

189
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“提到我的时候，他怎么说的？”她看着他，眼里泛着笑意。

190
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他害羞地咧嘴而笑，什么也没说。

191
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“告诉我吧，乔。”她说，“再喝一瓶啤酒，然后有话直说。”

192
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“好吧。”他说，拿起一个杯子，但没喝，“他说你是一个单身的女士，土著太太。我一直以为你们所有人都是已婚的。”

193
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“她们都是，除了我以外。那就是你匆忙赶去英国的原因吗？”

194
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他和她四目相投。“没错。”

195
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“哦，乔！那真是浪费钱，你瞧，结果我们还是要在这里见面！”

196
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他跟着她一起笑，喝了一大口啤酒。“好吧，我怎么知道你会在凯恩斯出现呢？”他想了一会儿，“那你到底在这儿干什么呢？”他问，“你还没有告诉我。”

197
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现在轮到她害羞了。“我继承了一笔钱。”她说，“我想诺尔·斯特拉坎告诉过你。”

198
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“没错。”他和善地说。

199
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“那时我不知道自己接下来要做什么，”她说，“我不想继续在伦敦郊区当打字员。后来我想到一个主意，我要为收留了我们三年的瓜拉德朗做点什么。我想给他们挖口井。”

200
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“一口井？”

201
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她手里拿着一杯啤酒，坐在那里给他讲瓜拉德朗的故事，她在那里交到的朋友，还有洗衣房和那口井。接下来就不那么好讲了。“挖井队从关丹来，”她说，“那时我以为你已经死了，乔。我们都是那样想的。”

202
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他咧嘴而笑。“我也差不多死了。”

203
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“挖井队告诉我你没死，”她说，“他们说你被送往了医院，后来康复了。”

204
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“没错，”他说，“我尝试让医院的人告诉我你们后来的遭遇，但他们说不知道。或者即使他们知道也不会说。我想他们都被那个渚蒲吓坏了。”

205
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她点点头。“我去了关丹。那里现在非常平静。人们在网球场上打网球，在那棵可怕的大树下坐着聊天。在医院，他们告诉我你曾经问起我们，”她笑道，“你叫我土著太太。”

206
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他咧嘴而笑。“但你是从那儿来的澳大利亚吗？”

207
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她点点头。“是的。”

208
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“为了什么？”

209
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“嗯，”她尴尬地说，“我想来看看你是否安好。我想也许你还躺在医院里之类的。”

210
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“是真的吗？”他问道，“你是因为我才来的澳大利亚？”

211
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“某种意义上是的，”她说，“不要想多了。”他咧嘴而笑。“即使你是个土著我也会那样做的。”

212
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“嗯，让你来说我浪费钱真是再合适不过了。”他说，“如果你留在英国的话，我们就会顺顺利利地见上面了。”

213
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她生气地说：“哼，我又怎么知道你会跑到英国去，还健康得像只跳蚤一样？”

214
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他们坐着喝了一会儿啤酒。“你是怎样来这儿的？”他问，“你先去的哪儿？”

215
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她说：“我知道你以前在沃拉华工作，我想那里的人应该会认识你。所以我从新加坡飞过来，去到达尔文，然后坐公共汽车南下爱丽丝。”

216
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“哦，老天。你去了爱丽丝斯普林斯？你去郊区沃拉华见汤米·杜维恩了吗？”

217
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她摇摇头。“我在爱丽丝住了一周左右，后来通过医院的广播站从杜维恩先生那里拿到你在米德赫斯特的地址。所以我飞去威尔斯镇——我在米德赫斯特给你寄了一封电报，告诉你我正要来找你。但是，当然，那里的人告诉我你在英国。”

218
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他盯着她看。“那是真的吗？你去过威尔斯镇？”

219
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她点点头。“在那里住了三周左右。”

220
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“三周！”他盯着她看，“你住在哪儿？”

221
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“在旅馆里，和康纳太太一起。”

222
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“但为什么是三周？对于大多数人来说，三个小时就够受的了。”

223
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“我必须找个地方待着。”她说，“如果你跑到英国去了，想见你的人就必须找个落脚处。你回去后，很可能会发现澳大利亚旅馆里满是这样的人。”

224
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他咧嘴而笑。“哦，老天，我会的。你在那儿都做了些什么？”

225
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“闲坐着，跟阿尔·伯恩斯、彼特·弗莱彻、森·斯莫尔和其他所有人聊天。”

226
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“你肯定引起了轰动。”他顿了顿，深深地思考这个新情况，“你去米德赫斯特了吗？”

227
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她摇摇头。“我一直留在威尔斯镇。不过我见到了吉姆·伦农。”

228
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楼下响起了晚饭的铃声。“我们最好下楼，乔。”她说，“如果你迟到了，他们会不高兴的。”

229
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“我知道。”他拿起杯子，一饮而尽。但他拿着空杯子坐着，一动不动。最后他说：“你觉得威尔斯镇怎么样，佩吉特小姐？”

230
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她笑道：“瞧，乔，把佩吉特小姐忘了吧。你可以叫我土著太太或者琴，但如果你还叫我佩吉特小姐，我明天就回家。”

231
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他微微一笑。“好吧，土著太太。你觉得威尔斯镇怎么样？”

232
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“乔，如果我们开始谈这个话题，就会错过饭点的。”

233
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“告诉我。”他说。

234
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她看着他，眼里含着笑意。“我觉得那真是个糟糕的地方，乔，”她轻轻地说，“我真不明白为什么有人能够忍受在那里生活。”她把手放到他小臂上，“我想和你谈谈它，但现在我们必须下楼吃饭。”

235
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他从椅子上站起来，放下杯子。“太对了，”他沉重地说，“那个地方对于女人来说真是糟糕透了。”

236
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他们下楼喝茶，同坐一张桌子。乔陷入了深深的忧郁之中。点完菜后，琴说：“乔，你还可以留多久？必须什么时候回米德赫斯特？”

237
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他抬起头，咧嘴一笑。“当我准备好要回去的时候。”他说，“我离开了这么久，再多待几天也不会有什么差别。”他顿了顿，说，“你呢？”

238
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“我只是过来看看你是否平安健康，乔。”她说，“我想我会南下布里斯班，下周就找船回家。”

239
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他们的饭来了，乔点了烤牛肉，琴要了冷火腿片和沙拉。“你来到凯恩斯之后，都做了些什么？”他不久问道，“去看大堡礁了吗？”

240
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她摇摇头。“我去了趟罗克汉普顿，还跟一个白人旅游团去了阿瑟顿高原，在那里过了一晚。我没去其他地方。”

241
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“哦，老天，”他说，“你一定要看过大堡礁再回家。”他顿了顿，然后说，“你想去格林岛过周末吗？”

242
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她瞟着他说：“格林岛是什么样的？”

243
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“就是一个礁石上面的珊瑚岛，”他解释道，“一个小小的圆形岛屿，大约半英里宽。岛上有一个餐馆，树丛中间有一些供人住宿的小木屋。如果你喜欢游泳，那是一个很棒的小地方。可以整天穿着泳衣。”

244
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琴想，她要好好考虑一下，树丛中间的小木屋是不是暗藏玄机，但这个提议自有其醉翁之意。他们对彼此几乎一无所知，有太多地方需要了解，太多话需要谈。她穿着泳衣和乔·哈曼在一个珊瑚岛上过周末，不管可能会发生什么事情，可以肯定的是，相比在气氛拘谨的凯恩斯，他们在那里能更深入地了解彼此。

245
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“我很乐意，乔，”她说，“我们要怎样去那里？”

246
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他满心欢喜地微笑了，她替他高兴。“吃完饭后，我出去找厄尼，”他说，“他很可能在海兹的酒吧里。他有一条船，我让他明早开船送我们去那儿。路上需要花三个小时左右，我们最好八点左右出发，趁太阳还不是很猛。我会请他下周一左右帮忙出来接我们。”

247
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“好的。”她同意了，“但是，乔——我们实行荷兰制。”他没听懂这个词。“我的意思是，你付一程的船，我付另一程，我们各埋各的单。”他强烈反对。“如果不那样，乔，我就不去了，”她说，“我会疑心你要对我图谋不轨。”

248
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他咧嘴笑了。“太对了。”然后说，“好吧，土著太太，我们各付各的钱。”

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他饭后离开，半小时后回到门廊找她。他找到了厄尼，预订好来回的船，还买了一大篮水果带去。黄昏稍纵即逝，夜幕很快就降临了。他们一起坐了几小时，谈论除了威尔斯镇以外的一切。她了解到很多信息，关于他早年在各个牛场的生活，他在克朗克里及周围的亲戚，他的军役，以及米德赫斯特。“上个雨季，我们有三十四英寸的雨。在南方的爱丽丝，有十英寸就算得上是一个好年头了。我一直想让斯皮尔斯太太同意在河流的源头修两个水坝来蓄水——一个在袋鼠溪上游，一个在干树胶河上游。”

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“她同意了吗？”

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“她同意出钱。”他说，“当然了，问题是很难找到人来修。你请不到小伙子过来内地工作。那是个鬼地方。”

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“为什么呢？”她问。她自己就很清楚，但她想听听他的意见。

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“我不知道，”他说，“他们全都想到镇上工作。”

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她没有纠缠这个话题，以后有的是谈论它的时间。他们谈起令人愉快的闲事，她发现他非常焦急地想回到米德赫斯特去见他的马和狗。“我有一条叫莉莉的小母狗，”他说，“它母亲是一条蓝牧牛犬，和一头野狗交配了，所以莉莉有一半野狗血统。它真是一条很棒的狗。嗯，我出发去英国前，让它和另一条蓝牧牛犬交配，现在应该已经生小狗了，这样它们都有四分之一野狗血统。野狗和牧牛犬杂交的话，能生出很出色的小狗，但必须减弱野狗的血统，不然生出的小狗就很野。战前在沃拉华的时候，我有一条狗就是有四分之一野狗血统的，它可好了。”

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他告诉她，他的牛场有大约六十匹驯马和驮马，但它们与他的关系远没有狗那么亲近。“狗会到牧场住宅里来，坐在你身旁，陪你度过晚上的时间。”他说。她可以想象那个画面，那些漫长而孤寂的夜晚，那就是他平常所过的生活。“在内地，如果没有狗，日子都不知道怎么熬下去。”

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十点钟，他们各自上床睡觉，准备次日一早出发。他们在她房门前的黑暗中一起站了一会儿。“我是不是变了很多，乔？”她问。

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他咧嘴而笑。“我完全认不出你来了。”

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“我想也是。六年真的很长。”

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“实际上你一点也没变，”他说，“你的内心还跟从前一样。”

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“我想你说得对，”她慢慢地说，“战后我觉得自己就像一个老太太，乔。经过了关丹那件事情后，我以为我再也不会因为什么事情而快乐起来了。”她笑道，“比如说去格林岛过周末。”

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“在那儿没什么可做，”他说，“游游泳，坐玻璃底的船出海看珊瑚和鱼。”

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“我知道。那肯定会很有趣。”

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他们第二天早晨坐上厄尼的渔船出发了，那是一艘带顶棚的汽艇。他们在一片光滑的海面上嘎嚓嘎嚓地前进了两个小时。他们在船后拖了一条钓鱼绳，钓到两条颜色鲜艳的大马鲛鱼。一个小时后，他们看到了格林岛，海平线上出现了椰子树的树顶；再驶近一些，就能看见小小的圆形岛屿，白色的珊瑚沙沙滩把它完全包围起来。一条长长的栈桥，一直修到珊瑚礁的浅水之上。他们下了船，一起走上这栈桥，停下来看猩红色和蓝色的鱼儿在下面的珊瑚丘周围嬉戏。

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岛上没有其他过夜的游客，他们要了两间绿树掩映的小木屋。这些小木屋两端通透，微风习习，有用于保护隐私的简易窗户。他们约好马上在沙滩见面，一起游泳。琴穿上一套新的两件式泳衣，乔一看见就赞赏不已。“就像画儿一样漂亮，”他说，“哦，老天。”

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她笑道：“布太少了，都不够填满一个画框的。”

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“太对了，”他说，“但这儿周围又没有老古板。”

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“我要小心点，别被晒伤。”她说，“我敢打赌，在这里游过泳的女人之中，我是最白的。”

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“你的肤色不均匀。”他说。他站着盯着她看，简直没有办法把目光从她的美貌上移开。“不过你曾在烈日下曝晒。”

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她的肩膀和双臂都晒黑了，乳房上有一条明显的分界线，上面是棕色的，下面是白的。“我在马来亚时把纱笼拉到这里，”她说，“在他们挖井的时候。住在村子时，我们常常把纱笼穿得高高的，拉到手臂底下。那样穿真的非常凉快，还可以保护身体大部分地方不被晒伤。而且也相当得体。”

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“你带纱笼来了吗？”他问。

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她点点头：“我打算一会儿穿。”

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他们转身走进海水时，她第一次看到他的背部，上面布满了一道道巨大的疤痕。疤痕扭曲了整个背部，使它看起来皱巴巴的。看到这一景象，她的内心涌上一阵深深的怜悯。这个男人已经为她受足了伤害，她绝对不能再伤害他了。他回头看她，说：“我们到齐膝深的地方就好了，最好不要往深里走。这附近有很多鲨鱼。”然后他仔细地看着她，说，“怎么了？”

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她马上笑道：“是太阳，”她说，“晒得我都流眼泪了。我真该戴上太阳镜。”

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“我去给你拿。放在哪儿了？”

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“我不想戴了，真的。”她说，一下子向前猛扎进沙上的浅水处，下到大约两英尺深的水里，然后翻了一个身，背朝下，甩掉脸上的水。“太美妙了！”她说。他也往前一扑，打了几个滚，坐在她身旁。珊瑚沙上的海水温暖宜人。“请告诉我，乔，”她说，“鲨鱼当真会游到这么近的地方来吗？”

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“它们会把你扯进刚齐腰深的水里，”他说，“哦，老天，它们会的。我不知道这会儿这儿有没有鲨鱼。问题是，你永远都不会知道。马来亚没有鲨鱼吗？”

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“我想有吧。”她说，“村民从不走进深过膝盖的海水，所以我们也没试过。河里还有鳄鱼呢。”她笑道，“总之，在热带国家，还是在游泳池游泳最好。”

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他们在蔚蓝清澈的海水里嬉戏，阳光穿过海面的涟漪，闪闪烁烁地，在他们周围的珊瑚沙上淌成银白色的流光。“我从未在游泳池里游过泳。”他说，“他们把游泳池的一头修得很浅，是吗？可以让人像这样坐上去？”

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“当然了，一头浅一头深，深的那头有跳水板。在澳大利亚这里不也有游泳池吗？”

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“哦，老天。在南方有，像悉尼和墨尔本那样的地方。我听说过有些牛场主在他们的土地上修建了游泳池，但像凯恩斯、汤斯维尔和麦基，它们就在海边上，所以不需要游泳池。”

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“麦克莱恩太太在爱丽丝斯普林斯有一个游泳池。”她说。

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“我知道，他们一两年前才修的。我还从来没有见过呢。”

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她翻了一个身，背朝上躺着，注视着一只海鸥从小岛飞到海上，在热气中翱翔。“你们可以在威尔斯镇修一个游泳池，”她说，“就这样任凭从钻孔喷出来的水在镇中心白白流淌，实在是太浪费了。你们可以在旅馆对面修一个漂亮的游泳池。”

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“那些水并没有被浪费掉，”他说，“哦，老天。旱季的时候牛就喝它。”

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“即使我们先把水借来灌满游泳池，也不会对牛造成任何伤害，”她说，“而且它们喝起来会更甜。”

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“如果是你在池里游泳的话，喝起来会更甜一些，”他同意，“但如果是我在里面游，那就不知道了。”

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他最多只让她在水里泡三刻钟。“你会晒伤的，”他说，“像这样的大毒日头，在海里就跟在陆地上一样容易晒伤。你的皮肤那么白，要特别注意。”他们从沙滩上起身，走到树荫中，坐着抽了会儿烟，然后回到小木屋添些衣服去吃午饭。她发现，在澳大利亚的旅馆吃饭必须非常注意着装。在凯恩斯，即使是在夏天最热的时候，男士去餐厅时要是不穿上外套并系好领带，就没有人愿意接待他，女士也不会穿着休闲裤去吃饭。

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哈曼给她点了一顿清淡的午饭，冷火腿片和水果。他为了能让她度过一个愉快的周末费尽了心思，令她非常感动。她问道：“乔，为什么像威尔斯镇那样的地方没有新鲜水果？水果在那儿不长吗？”她一边说一边努力想以一种优雅的方式吃掉一个芒果。

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“芒果长得挺好的，”他说，“我们在米德赫斯特有三四棵芒果树。镇上没有吗？我还以为肯定有呢。”

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“我相信没有。我从未在旅馆里见过水果，其他地方也没有卖的。”

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“哦，好吧，也许你是见不到水果的。人们似乎并不拿它当回事。在有些地方，所有的行道树都是芒果树。如果你在初夏的时候开车经过库克镇，就会看到沿路种满了芒果树。”

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“人们不喜欢新鲜水果和蔬菜吗？我是说，如果不吃它们的话，就会得各种各样的皮肤病。”

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“对于老人家来说，在园子里干活太热了，就像在其他地方一样，”他说，“乡下没有足够的人手来种那样的东西。我们甚至都请不到人到牛场做牧工——我们不得不用三分之二的土著牧工，甚至更多。那里就是人手不够。他们都不愿意来内地。”

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她思考着说：“爱丽丝斯普林斯有大量新鲜蔬菜。”

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“啊，是的，”他回答，“爱丽丝是不一样的。爱丽丝是一个很棒的小镇。”

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饭后热浪来袭的时候，他们各自上床睡觉，晚饭前再去游泳。晚间凉风送爽，他们走到码头边钓鱼。他们抓到一些青嘴龙占，还有三四条红蓝相间的鱼——这些闪闪发光的鱼有毒，不能吃，还会蜇人，必须戴上手套来对付它们。厌倦了这项无利可图的运动后，他们收起钓鱼线，一起坐着，看太阳从地平线上的阿瑟顿高原背后落下。“这真是一件很有趣的事情，”琴说，“去到一个新国家，原本希望一切都是新鲜的，却发现有很多东西并不陌生。在英国，遇到晴朗的夏日黄昏，也能看见跟这里一模一样的日落。”

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“你能在这儿看到很多和英国相似的景象吗？”他问。

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她微微一笑。“在格林岛上不能。在威尔斯镇也看不到多少。但在凯恩斯——很多。停在大街上的沃克斯豪尔和奥斯丁汽车，告诉人们买英国货的政治家，大英北方保险公司，塔特沙尔花格毛料，旅馆里收听《又是那个家伙》的银行职员。就连街上的报童——‘快来看报纸！’闭起眼睛听着他们的声音，就像身在英国。我住在伊令公地的时候，他们天天那样喊，喊声一模一样。”

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“伊令是你上班时住的地方吧？在伦敦附近，是不是？”

300
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“没错。其实它是伦敦的一部分——伦敦的一个郊区。”

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“你回国后还会回那儿住吗？”

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“不知道，”她慢慢地说，“我不知道接下来要做什么，乔。”

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黄昏的光线斜斜地照下来，风平浪静，他们一起坐在码头，看着海那边的日落。她希望他能够循着她的话追问下去，但他没有，她深感失望。除此之外，她对他还怀有更多期望，但并无一个得以实现，她开始觉得心烦意乱。她原本还期望自己整个周末都要刻意防范着他，譬如说，像抵御入侵者一样，但到目前为止，事态仿佛完全在朝另一个方向发展。乔·哈曼对她的行为无可指责，他并没有试图吻她，甚至不曾制造与她发生身体接触的机会。如果不是他确实去过英国，不为别的只为去找她，她很可能会认为他对她根本毫无兴趣。那天结束的时候，他的坐怀不乱令她深为担忧。他已经为她遭受了太多痛苦。

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他们回屋睡觉的时候，事情并无任何好转。她情愿被吻，在安静的夜色中，在婆娑的棕榈树树影下，但乔没有这么做。他们用最循规蹈矩的方式互道晚安，甚至连手都没有握一下，然后各自回屋，就像那些恪守礼节的老古板一样。琴醒着躺了一会儿，焦躁不安，苦恼不已。她想当然地认为他们会在格林岛上取得某种感情上的进展，但如果事情就这样发展下去，他们下周一就会一无所获地离开。那样的话，她就不得不南下布里斯班坐船回家。没有任何借口去做任何其他事情。这个想法简直让她无法忍受。

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她知道她的英式做派对他来讲很陌生，他不可能知道她有多么愿意让自己融入他的昆士兰式生活。另外，也许她的钱成为了两人之间的障碍。她不认为一个男人会真诚或诚恳到在娶一个有钱的女士时犹豫不决，但这笔钱也可能使他对她望而却步。她有一种感觉，她这个陌生的英国贵小姐，和一个来自凯恩斯的澳大利亚姑娘有着天壤之别。如果乔·哈曼对一个来自凯恩斯的姑娘如此感兴趣，这个姑娘早就已经和他同床共枕了。然而他甚至都还未曾吻过她。

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她躺了很久，难以入寐。

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第二天也并无任何进展。早晨空气凉爽，他们在清澈得不可思议的海里游泳。退潮时，他们走到礁石上，去看色彩缤纷的珊瑚。他们坐在一艘用玻璃做底的船上，划着它四处转悠，观赏五颜六色的鱼儿，两人中间一直隔着足足有六英寸的距离。吃饭的时候，他们都发现自己已经谈够了无关痛痒的话题。克制变成一种负担，当他们两人似乎都无话可说的时候，那漫长的沉默显得相当尴尬。

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傍晚的光线柔和温暖，他们决定到环岛的沙滩上散步。她把他留在她的小屋门前，说：“给我几分钟时间，乔。我不想穿着这条连衣裙在沙滩上散步。”她把其中一块窗帘拉起来，把自己遮住。换衣服时，她想他们就剩一天时间了，有那么多需要解决的问题，但他们甚至还没开始进入正题。不入虎穴，焉得虎子，如果是为了乔，冒点险还是值得的。

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她在昏暗的光线中走出小屋的时候，他转过身来。他仿佛回到了六年前的马来亚。她又穿着那条褪了色的旧棉布纱笼，或者是一条很相似的纱笼，拉得很高，在手臂下打一个结。她棕色的肩膀和棕色的手臂露在外面。她光着脚，头发垂下来扎成长长的辫子，尾部用一条小绳子扎起来，就像在马来亚的时候一样。她不再是那个陌生的英国贵小姐，她又变回了土著太太，这些年来他一直记在心里的那位土著太太。她很羞涩地走向他，把双手放到他的肩膀上，说：“这样是不是好一点，乔？”

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她永远无法非常清楚地记得接下来五分钟发生的事情。她站着，被他的手臂紧紧拥抱着，他发狂地吻她的脸、她的脖子和双肩，一边用手抚摸她的身体。在横扫全身的激动和兴奋中，她知道，从未有任何人比这个男人更想得到她。她站在他的双臂中，并没有抵抗，她从没想过要挣扎或者逃走。但是过了一会儿，当她得以喘口气说话时，她说：“哦，乔！屋子里的人会看见我们！”

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她意识到的下一件事情，就是他们已经在她的小木屋里了。她永远不知道他们是怎么进去的，但过后想想，她得出了结论，他肯定是把她抱了进去。这时发生了另一件让她担心的事情。如果不乱动，在胸部上方用一个紧结扎起来的纱笼可以整天都保持在合适的地方，但它抵挡不住活力四射的男性力量。她可以感觉到它渐渐松开并往下掉。她身上没穿任何其他衣服。

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她仍然顺从地站在他的手臂中，被他的吻窒息，她想，这就是它了。然后她想，这件事情总有一天要发生的，我很开心对方是乔。然后她想，它不是他的错，是我引诱他的。然后她想，我必须坐下来，或者怎么样，要不然就会一丝不挂了。想到这里，她往后一撤，从他的手臂里逃了出来，坐到床上。

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他跟着她坐下，笑着，她一边试图把纱笼拉起来，并用手遮着双乳，一边含笑望着他。然后她又落入了他的双臂，他不让她把纱笼穿上。然后他很直白地说：“你介意吗？”

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她伸出右臂，环着他的肩膀，温柔地说：“亲爱的乔，如果你想要的话，我不介意。但如果你能够等到我们结了婚再说，我会更加乐意。但不管你现在做什么，我都一样爱你。”

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他俯视着她，看进她的双眸：“再说一遍。”

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她把他的头拉到自己面前，吻他。“亲爱的乔。我当然爱你。你以为我来澳大利亚是为了什么？”

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“你愿意嫁给我吗？”

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“我当然愿意嫁给你。”她抬起头看着他，眼里充满深情和笑意，“所有看见我们现在这副样子的人都会说我们已经是夫妻了。”

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他咧嘴而笑。他现在更加温柔地抱着她。“不知道在你眼里我是个什么样的人。”

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“我要告诉你吗？”她拿起他一只受过伤的手，轻抚巨大的伤疤，“在我眼里，你就是那个我想嫁给他，并且为他生小孩的男人。”纱笼似乎已经滑落到她的腰部，但现在那已经不重要了。“我倒更情愿等几个月，把我们的生活先安排一下，乔。婚姻是一件大事。在我们结婚之前，是有很多事情需要做的。但如果你说我们等不了了，那我明天就跟你结婚，或者今天晚上。”

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他温柔地把她拉过来，吻她的指尖。“我可以等。我都为这一刻等了六年了，我可以再等一阵子。”

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她轻柔地说：“可怜的乔。我会试着把事情弄得容易一些。我不会把你逗急的。我今天这样做真不应该。”她从他的手臂中抽出身来，把纱笼拉上，裹住身体。“请出去等一会儿，我要多穿点衣服。”

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他说：“你不需要那样做。我不会做任何事情，除了不时吻吻你。今晚就这样吧，就当这儿是马来亚。”

324
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“只限今天晚上。”她说。他们不久走到沙滩上，站在明亮的月光下，紧紧拥抱着对方。“我从来不知道一个男人可以如此开心。”他说。

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半小时后，她说：“乔，我们现在都很累了，是时候上床睡觉了。我们有太多东西要谈了，但最好留到明早再谈。今晚我只想跟你说一件事。只要你觉得你一刻也不能等，你来告诉我，好不好？如果你那样来找我，我保证我们马上就结婚，或者更快。”

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他温柔地说：“我可以为你等很久很久，在这之后。”

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“亲爱的乔。我会尽我所能不让你久等的。”

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她太累了，所以回到小屋后没有点蜡烛，而是倒在床上，像个马来人一样松开纱笼，几乎马上就睡着了。第二天，她在晨光中醒来，躺着回忆昨晚发生的事情，感到出奇地高兴。最后，她觉得他们两人之间的事终于走上了正轨。太阳升起时，她起床跑去小心翼翼地窥探乔的小屋和餐厅。到处都没有一点人的动静，所以她穿上泳衣，到海里洗了个澡。太阳升起后，她躺在浅水中，发现身上有一些瘀痕。她回忆起自己是如何惊险逃脱了比死亡更可怕的命运。

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她蹑手蹑脚地回到小屋，穿上连衣裙，走去餐厅。餐厅开着门，但里面没有人。她把水壶放到油炉上，泡了一壶茶。她拿着一杯茶去乔的小屋，小心地往里窥探。

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他穿着一条短裤躺在床上，还未睡醒。她在那里站了几分钟，看着他睡觉的模样。因困扰而生的皱纹已经从他脸上消失，他安稳合目而睡，像个小男孩儿。他背上的疤痕凶狠地凸出来，与这张恬静的脸形成了鲜明的对比。她深情地看了他一段时间，知道自己在未来几乎每一个早晨都会看见他现在这个样子，这个想法令她很高兴。

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她挪了一下位置，放下杯子。当她再去看他的时候，他已经睁开了眼，也在看着她。“早，乔，”她说，一边想她是不是应该像只兔子一样逃之夭夭，“我给你泡了一杯茶。”

332
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他用一只手臂撑起身来。“请告诉我，”他说，“我以为昨天发生过的事情真的发生了吗？”

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“我想是的，乔，”她说，“我想那肯定发生了。我浑身上下都是瘀痕。”

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他伸出一只手。“过来，让我吻吻你。”

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她后撤了。“想都别想。你先起来洗个澡，穿好衣服，到时我会给你一个吻。”

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他笑道：“你不去洗澡吗？”

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“我洗过了，”她说，“你还在睡觉的时候我就已经起来了，磨蹭了差不多有一个小时。我下去看着你洗。”

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他问道：“你睡得好吗？”

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她点点头。“像根木头一样。”

340
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“我也是。”他们心有灵犀地一笑。“给我几分钟，我马上去沙滩。”她坐在沙子上，在他洗澡时和他聊天。然后他上来去刮胡子，不久就穿上一件干净的衬衣和干净的卡其色休闲裤来到琴跟前。她走进他的双臂，给了他一个吻。然后，既然不见有任何早饭的动静，他们紧紧偎依着，一起坐在沙滩上，在清爽的晨风中绵绵不绝地谈着话。他们现在找起话题来毫无困难，即使相对无言，也觉亲密无间。

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吃过早饭后，他们坐着喝最后一杯咖啡，一边抽烟，他说：“我一直在想，一等斯皮尔斯太太找到另外一个经理，我就离开米德赫斯特。”她愕然地听着。接下来是什么？“如果我们可以找到一个用于育肥的牧场，在阿德莱德北边，在马拉拉、哈姆利布里奇、巴拉克拉瓦，或者其他类似的地方，在爱丽丝斯普利斯的铁路沿线上，离屠宰场不是很远，那就符合我的理想了。我想我们能找到那样一个地方，离城市大约五十英里，以便随时进城。”

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她默默地坐了一会儿。这需要慎重应对。“你为什么想这样做，乔？米德赫斯特有什么不好？”

343
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“它离任何一个地方都太远了，”他说，“也许对一个单身汉来讲没问题，但对一对夫妇来讲就不行。阿德莱德现在是一个很棒的城市。我是昆士兰人，但我喜欢阿德莱德多于布里斯班。我没去过悉尼和墨尔本，但阿德莱德是一个很棒的城市，哦，老天。有一条又一条的商业街，还有有轨电车、电影院和舞厅，它也是一个漂亮的地方，背后有山脉，还有葡萄园，里面种的葡萄用来酿酒。如果我们能在阿德莱德附近找到一个农场，就能过上很棒的生活。”

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“但是，乔，”她说，“那是你想要的工作吗？只是从内地把牛买来进行育肥？我听着觉得太无聊了。你是不是受够内地了？”

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他把烟头扔到地上，用脚后跟辗灭。“有些地方适合单身汉，有些地方适合已婚的人。”他说，“结婚后，人必须做出一些改变。”

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他们中间隔着早餐桌，对于这一份新建立的亲密关系而言，这个距离太远了。她无法在不触碰他的情况下处理一件这么严肃的事情。“让我们出去谈。”她说。于是他们走出餐厅，在沙滩边缘的树荫下找到一块满是沙子的草地，在那里一起坐下。“我不认为那是对的，乔，”她慢慢地说，“我认为你不应该只是为了要娶我就离开内地。”

347
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他向她笑道：“海湾地区没有适合女人住的地方，”他说，“除非她是在内地出生并长大的，有时候这样也不行。我见过一些从英国来的已婚夫妇试着适应内地的生活，但从来没听过有成功的。内地的生活跟英国太不一样，太艰苦了。”

348
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她慢慢地说：“我知道不一样，也很艰苦。我在威尔斯镇住了三周，乔，对它有一些了解。”她捧起他的手，在自己双手间轻抚那巨大的伤疤。“我知道你害怕什么。你害怕像我这样一个直接从英国来的女孩儿在内地会过得不开心，乔。你害怕我会焦躁不安，开始找借口离开，住在城市里，为着牙医，为着商店，还有那一类东西。你害怕，如果我们在米德赫斯特开始我们的婚姻，你会把我逼得太苦，然后我们的婚姻就会出问题。”

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她抬起双眼望着他。“你害怕的就是这个，是不是，乔？”

350
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他看着她的眼睛。“没错，”他说，“一个男人没有权力让一位英国姑娘住在像威尔斯镇那么糟糕的地方。”

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她笑道：“不仅是英国姑娘，乔。就连澳大利亚姑娘，生在威尔斯镇的姑娘们，也不惜背井离乡地逃离它。”

352
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他咧嘴而笑。“没错，如果连她们都不能忍受它，你又怎么能呢？”

353
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“我不知道我能不能。”她思考着说，做人要诚实。“所有海湾地区的镇子都一样吗？”

354
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他点点头。“诺曼顿大一点，有三个酒吧，而不是一个，还有一个教堂。”

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接下来是一段长长的沉默。“我有一点恐惧。”她最后说。

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他执起她的手。他们的新生活仿佛触手可及，她却心怀畏惧，真让人发疯。她昨天晚上真是勇气可嘉。“恐惧什么？”他温柔地问。

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她说：“我害怕你换工作。”她顿了顿，说，“我觉得你的想法完全行不通。一个男人怎么能因为自己的妻子无法忍受他能忍受的生活，就嚷嚷着要换工作呢？你习惯了在一块大约两千平方英里的土地上工作，乔，时不时赶着驮马消失三个礼拜，但从不离开你自己的土地。像你这样的男人，在一千英亩地上能做什么？”

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他虚弱地咧嘴而笑。她点到了他的痛处。“我相信我会很快适应的。”

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“我知道你行，”她轻轻地说，“你甚至可以做得非常好。但离开了海湾地区之后，你永远不会真正感到满足。电影院，或者一条又一条的商业街，又或者是舞厅，都无法弥补这种落差。当我们偶尔吵起架来——我们会吵架的，乔——你就会想起过去在海湾地区的生活，想到你是怎样为了我而放弃了它，我知道你会怪在我的身上，那我们之间就会一直心存芥蒂。那才是我害怕的事情，乔。我想我们应该留在海湾地区，你工作的地方。”

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“你刚刚才说你不能忍受威尔斯镇。”他抗议道，“伯克敦和克罗伊登——嗯，它们都一样的。”

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“我知道，”她体贴地说，“我有点前言不搭后语，是不是？开始我说我不能忍受在那样一个地方生活，然后又说你不应该有去任何其他地方生活的念头。”

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“没错，”他既困扰又苦恼，“我们要试着想办法解决它，看看怎样对我们两人都合适。”

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“只有一个办法，乔。”

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“是什么？”

365
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她向他微笑道：“我们要做点什么来改变威尔斯镇。”

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Jean made that pair of shoes working upon the dressing-table of her bedroom; to be more exact, she made three pairs before she got a pair that she could wear.

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She started off upon Tim Whelan. Tim had made lasts for shoes from time to time, working for various cobblers; the outback woodworker must turn his hand to anything. Jean lent him one of her shoes and lent him her foot to measure in his carpenter’s shop, and he made a pair of lasts for her in mulga wood in a couple of days. She asked Pete Fletcher about leather for the soles and heels, and he produced some pieces of tanned cow-skin which were about the right thickness for the soles, and a piece of bull’s skin for building up the heels. The lining was a major difficulty at first till somebody suggested a young wallaby skin. Pete Fletcher went out and shot the wallaby and skinned it, and the tanning was carried out by a committee of Pete Fletcher and Al Burns and Don Duncan, working in the back of Bill Duncan’s store. The business of this pair of shoes assumed such an importance in the life of Willstown that Jean put off her trip to Cairns for a week, and then another week.

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The wallaby skin for the lining was not ready, so Jean made up the first pair with a white satin lining that she bought in the store. She knew every process of shoe-making intimately from the point of view of an onlooker, and from the office end, but she had never done it herself before, and the first pair of shoes were terrible. They were shoes of a sort, but they pinched her toes and the heels were too large by a quarter of an inch, and they hurt her instep. The satin lining was not a success, and the whole job was messy with the streaming perspiration of her fingers. Still, they were shoes, and wearable by anyone whose feet happened to be that shape.

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She could not show shoes like that to the men downstairs, and so she set to work to make another pair. She got Tim to alter the lasts for her, bought another knife and a small carborundum stone from the store, and started again. For fixative she was using small tubes of Durofix, also from the store.

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In all this work Annie took a great interest. She used to come and sit and watch Jean working as she trimmed and filed the soles or stretched the wet alligator hides carefully upon the lasts.“I do think you’re clever to be able to do that,”she said.“They’re almost as good as you could buy in a shop.”

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The second pair were better. They fitted Jean moderately well, but the wallaby-skin lining was uneven and lumpy, and the whole job was still messy and fingermarked with sweat. Undaunted, she began upon a third pair. This time she used portions of the wallaby skin that were of even thickness, having no means of trimming the skin down, and when it came to the final assembly of the shoes she worked in the early morning when the perspiration of her hands was least. The final result was quite a creditable shoe with rather an ugly coloured lining, but a shoe that she could have worn anywhere.

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She took the three pairs downstairs and showed them to Al Burns on the veranda; Al fetched two or three of the other men, and Mrs Connor came to have a look at them.“That’s what happens to the alligator skins in England,”Jean said.“They make them up into shoes like that. Pretty, aren’t they?”

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One of the men said,“You made them yourself, Miss Paget?”

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She laughed.“Ask Mrs Connor. She knows the mess I’ve been making in the bedroom.”

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The man turned the shoe over in his hand.“Oh my word,”he said slowly.“It’s as good as you’d buy in a shop.”

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Jean shook her head.“It’s not,”she said.“It’s not really.”She pointed out the defects to him.“I haven’t got the proper brads or the proper fixative. And the whole thing’s messy, too. I just made it up to show you what they do with all these skins that Jeff brings in.”

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“I bet you could sell that in Cairns,”the man said, stubbornly.“Oh my word, you could.”

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Sam Small said,“How much does a pair of shoes like that cost in England?”

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“In a shop?”She thought for a minute.“About four pounds fifteen shillings, I should say. I know the manufacturer gets about forty-five bob, but then there’s purchase tax and retailer’s commission to go on.”She paused.“Of course, you can pay much more than that for a really good shoe. People pay up to ten pounds in some shops.”

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“Ten pounds for a pair of shoes like that? Oh my word.”

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Jeff was out of town up the river visiting his traps, so she could not show him the shoes that day. She left them with the men to take into the bar and talk over, and she went to have a bath. She had discovered how to have a bath in Willstown by that time; Annie had showed her. The Australian Hotel had a cold shower for ladies, which was usually a very hot shower because the tank stood in the sun. But if you wanted to wallow in hot water, there was another technique altogether.

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Where the water from the bore ran off in a hot stream, a small wooden hut had been constructed spanning the stream, at such a distance from the bore that the temperature was just right for a bath. A rough concrete pool had been constructed here large enough for two bodies to lie in side by side; you took your towel and soap and went to the hut and locked yourself in and bathed in the warm, saline water flowing through the pool. The salts in the water made this bath unusually refreshing.

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Jean lay in the warm water, locked in the little hut alone; the sunlight came in through little chinks in the woodwork and played on the water as she lay. Since she had seen Jeff Pocock’s alligator skin the idea of making shoes had been in her mind. From the time that she had first met me and learned of her inheritance she had been puzzled, and at times distressed, by the problem of what she was going to do with her life. She had no background of education or environment that would have enabled her to take gracefully to a life of ease. She was a business girl, accustomed to industry. She had given up her work with Pack and Levy as was only natural when she inherited nine hundred a year, but she had found nothing yet to fill the gap left in her life. Subconsciously she had been searching, questing, for the last six months, seeking to find something that she could work at. The only work she really knew about was fancy leather goods, alligator shoes and handbags and attaché cases. She did know a little bit about the business of making and selling those.

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She lay in the warm, medicated water, thinking deeply. Suppose a little workshop with about five girls in it, and a small tannery outside. Two handpresses and a rotary polisher; that meant a supply of electric current. A small motor generator set, unless perhaps she could buy current from the hotel. An air conditioner to keep the workshop cool and keep the girls’ hands from sweating as they worked. It was imperative that the finished shoes should be virgin clean.

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Could such a set-up pay? She lay calculating in her bath. She had discovered that Jeff Pocock got about seventy shillings for an average alligator skin, uncured. She knew that Pack and Levy paid about a hundred and eighty shillings for cured skins. It did not seem to her that it could cost more than twenty shillings to trim and tan an alligator skin, and her figures were in Australian money, too. The skins should be much cheaper than in England. labour, too, would be cheaper; girl labour in Willstown would be cheaper than girl labour in Perivale. But then there would be the cost of shipping the shoes to England, and an agent’s fees.

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She wondered if Pack and Levy would sell for her. She knew that Mr Pack had been lukewarm for a long time about the manufacturing side of the business. They did sell other people’s products, too —those handbags made by that French firm, Ducros Frères. Pack and Levy sold those, although they made handbags themselves...

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The major problem was not the business, she thought. In Willstown both labour and materials were cheap; the business end of it might well be all right. But could she train the sort of girl that she could get in Willstown to turn out first-class quality work, capable of being sold in Bond Street shops? That was the real problem.

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She lay for a long time in her warm, medicated bath, thinking very deeply.

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That evening as she was sitting in her deckchair on the veranda, Sam Small came to her.“Miss Paget,”he said.“Mind if we have a talk?”

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“Of course, Sam,”she said.

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“I been thinking about that pair of shoes you made,”he said.“I been wondering if you could teach our Judy.”

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“How old is Judy, Sam?”

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“Fifteen,”he said.“Sixteen next November.”

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“Do you want her to learn shoe-making?”

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He said,“I been thinking that anyone who could make a dinkum pair of ladies’ shoes like that, they could sell them in Cairns in the shops. You see, Judy’s getting to an age when she’s got to do some work, and there ain’t nothing here a girl can do to make a living. She’ll have to go into the cities, like the other girls. Well, that’s a crook deal for her mother, Miss Paget. We’ve only got the one girl—three boys and one girl, that’s our litter. It’ll be a crook deal for her mother if Judy goes to Brisbane, like the other girls. And I thought this shoe-making, well, maybe it would be a thing that she could do at home. After all,”he said,“it looks like we’ve got everything you need to do it with, right here in Willstown.”

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“Not buckles,”Jean said thoughtfully.“We’d have to do something about buckles.”She was speaking half to herself.

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She thought for a minute.“It wouldn’t work like that, Sam,”she said.“You think that pair of shoes are wonderful, but they aren’t. They’re a rotten pair of shoes. You couldn’t sell a pair like that in England, not to the sort of people who buy shoes like that. I don’t think you could sell them in any first-class shop, even in Cairns.”

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“They look all right to me,”he said stubbornly.

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She shook her head.“They aren’t. I’ve been in this business, Sam—I know what a shoe ought to look like. I’m not saying that we can’t turn out a decent shoe in Willstown; I’d rather like to try. But to get the job right I’ll need machinery, and proper benches and hand tools, and proper materials. I see your point about Judy, and I’d like to see her with a job here in Willstown. But it’s too big a thing for her to tackle on her own.”

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He looked at her keenly.“Was you thinking of a factory or something?”

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“I don’t know. Suppose somebody started something of the sort here. How many girls would you get to work regular hours, morning and afternoon—say for five pounds a week?”

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“Here in Willstown?”

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“That’s right.”

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“How young would you let them start?”

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She thought for a minute.“When they leave school, I suppose. That’s fourteen, isn’t it?”

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“You wouldn’t pay a girl of fourteen five pounds a week?”

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“No. Work them up to that when they got skilled.”

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He considered the matter.“I think you’d get six or seven round about sixteen or seventeen, Miss Paget. Then there’d be more coming on from school.”

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She turned to another aspect of the matter.“Sam, what would it cost to put up a hut for a workshop?”

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“How big?”

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She looked around.“About as long as from here to the end of the veranda, and about half as wide.”

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“That’s thirty foot by fifteen wide. You mean a wooden hut, like it might be an army hut, with an iron roof, and windows all along?”

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“That’s the sort of thing.”

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He calculated slowly in his head.“About two hundred pounds.”

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“I think I’d want it to have a double roof and a veranda, like that house that Sergeant Haines lives in. It’s got to be cool.”

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“Ah, that puts up the cost. A house like that’ld cost you close upon four hundred, with a veranda all around.”

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“How long would that take to build?”

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“Oh, I dunno. Have to get the timber up from Normanton. Tim Whelan and his boys’ld put that up in a couple of months, I’d say.”

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There would be extra buildings needed for the tanning and the dyeing of the hides.“Tell me, Sam,”she said.“Would people here like something of that sort started? Or would they think it just a bit of nonsense?”

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“You mean, if it kept the girls here in the town, earning money?”

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“That’s right.”

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“Oh my word,”he said.“Would they like it. They’d like anything that kept the girls at home, so long as they was happy and got work to do.”He paused thoughtfully.“It isn’t natural the way the girls go off a thousand miles from home in this country,”he said slowly.“That’s what Ma and I was saying the other night. It isn’t natural.”

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They sat in silence for a time.“Takes a bit of thinking about, Sam,”she said at last.

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When the Dakota came next Wednesday she left Willstown for Cairns. She took two days to get there because that was the unhurried way of the Dakota; they left Willstown in the afternoon and called at various cattle stations with the mail and correspondence lessons for the children from the school at Cairns, at Dunbar and Miranda and Vanrook. With the last of the light they put down at Normanton for the night, and drove into the town in a truck.

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The hotel at Normanton was similar to the hotel at Willstown, but rather larger. Jean had tea with the pilot, a man called Mackenzie; after tea she sat with him on the veranda. She asked him if anyone made shoes in Normanton.“I don’t think so,”he said. He called out to an acquaintance.“Ted, does anyone make shoes round here?”

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Ted shook his head.“Buy ’em from Burns Philp,”he said.“Want a pair of shoes mended?”

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Jean said,“No—I was just curious. They all come from the cities, do they?”

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“That’s right.”Ted rolled himself a cigarette.“My wife’s sister, she works in a shoe factory down at Rockhampton. That’s where a lot of the shoes come from. Manning Cooper, at Rockhampton. That’s where Burns Philp get ’em from.”

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Jean asked,“Was your wife’s sister born round here?”

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“Croydon,”he said.“Their Dad used to keep a hotel at Croydon, but he give up; there wasn’t work for two. Mrs Bridson’s is the only one there now.”

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“She’s not married?”

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“Who? Elsie Peters?”

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“That’s the one who works at Manning Cooper, is it?”

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“No, she’s not married. Got to be a charge hand now, with a lot of girls under her.”

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When he had moved on Jean asked the pilot,“Who was that?”

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“Him? Ted Horner. He runs the garage here.”She noted the name for future reference.

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They flew on to Cairns early the next morning; she drove into the town and went to the Strand Hotel. Cairns, she found, was a prosperous town of about twenty thousand people, situated rather beautifully on an inlet of the sea. There were several streets of shops, wide avenues with flower beds down the middle of the road; the buildings were all wood and most had iron roofs. It looked rather like the cinema pictures she had seen of American towns in the deep south, with its wide broad sidewalks shaded by verandas to enable you to look into the shop windows in the shade, but it was almost aggressively English in its loyalties. She liked Cairns from the start.

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She wrote to me from there. She had written to me twice from Willstown, and at the Strand Hotel she found a letter from me waiting for her that had been there for some days, on account of her delays. She wrote,

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Strand Hotel,

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Cairns,

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North Queensland

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My Dear Noel,

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I got your letter of the 24th when I arrived here yesterday, and you will have got my two from Willstown by this time. I wish I had a typewriter because this is going to be a long letter. I think I’ll have to get a portable soon in order to keep copies of my letters—not to you, but I’m getting involved a bit in business out here.

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First of all, thank you so very much for telling me what you did about Joe Harman. You’ve evidently been very nice to him and, as you know, that’s being nice to me. I can’t get over what you say about him rushing off to England and spending all that money, just to see me again. But people out here are like that, I think. I could say an awful lot of rude things about Australians by this time, but I can say this, too. The people that I’ve met in the outback have all been like Joe Harman, very simple, very genuine, and very true.

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And now, about Willstown. I don’t know if Joe Harman will still be so keen on marrying me when he sees me; six years is a long time, and people change. I don’t know if I’ll be keen on marrying him. But if we were to want to marry, what he told you about Willstown is absolutely right.

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It’s just terrible there, Noel. There are some places in the outback where one could live a fully and happy life. Alice Springs is a grand little town. But Willstown’s not one of them. Noel, it’s absolutely the bottom. There’s nothing for a woman there at all except the washtub. I know that one ought to be able to get along without such things as radio and lipstick and ice-cream and pretty clothes. I think I can get along all right without them—I did in Malaya. But when it comes to no fresh milk and no fresh vegetables or fruit, it’s a bit thick. I think that what Joe told you was absolutely right. I don’t think any girl could come straight out from England and live happily in Willstown. I don’t think I could.

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And yet, Noel, I wouldn’t want to see Joe try and change his way of life. He’s a first-class station manager, and he’ll do very well. I asked all sorts of people about the way Midhurst is run, and it’s good. I don’t say it couldn’t be better if he travelled a bit more widely and saw what other cattle breeders do, but relative to the other stations in the Gulf country, Midhurst is pretty good and getting better every year. The last manager let it run down, so they tell me, but Joe’s done a good job in the two years that he’s been there. I wouldn’t want to see Joe try and make his life anywhere else, just because he’d married a rich wife who couldn’t or wouldn’t live in Willstown, where his work is.

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Of course, you’ll probably say that he could get another station near a better town, perhaps near Alice. I’m not sure that that would be very easy; I’ve thought a lot about that one. But if it was possible, I wouldn’t like it much. Midhurst is in good country with more rainfall than in England; for a life’s work it seems to me that the Gulf country is a far better prospect than anything round Alice. I wouldn’t like to think that he’d left good land and gone to bad land, just because of me. That wouldn’t be a very good start for a station manager’s wife.

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Noel, do you think I could have five thousand pounds of my capital? I’m going to take the advice you always shove at me, and not do anything in a hurry. If when I meet Joe Harman he still wants to marry me, and if I want to marry him, I’m going to wait a bit if I can get him to agree. I’d like to work in Willstown for a year or so myself before committing myself to live there for ever. I want to see if I could ever get to adapt myself to the place, or if it’s hopeless. I don’t want to think that. I would like to find it possible to live in the Gulf country even though I was brought up in England, because they are such very, very decent people living there.

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I want to try and start a tiny workshop, making shoes and handbags out of alligator skins. I told you about that in my last letter. It’s work I know about, and all the materials are there to hand in the Gulf country, except the metal parts. I’ve written a long letter this morning to Mr Pack to ask him if he would sell for me in England if the stuff is good enough, and to let me know the maximum price that he could give for shoes delivered at Perivale. And I’ve asked him to make me out a list of the things I’d want for a workshop employing up to ten girls and what they cost; things like a press and a polisher with the heads for it, and a Knighton No. 6 sewing machine.

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The sewing-machine is a heavy duty one for leather and that’s the most expensive single item. I should think the lot, including ￡400 for a building to work in, would cost about a thousand pounds. But I’m afraid that’s not the whole story. If I’m going to start a workshop for girls, they’ve got to have something to spend their wages on. I want to start a shop to sell the sort of things that women want.

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Not a big shop, just a little one. I want it to be a sort of ice-cream parlour with a few chromium-plated chairs and glass-topped tables. I want to sell fruit there and fresh vegetables; if I can’t get them any other way I’ll have them flown in from Cairns. There’s plenty of money in the outback for that. I want to sell fresh milk there, too; Joe will have to play and keep a few milking cows. I want to sell sweets, and just a few little things like lipstick and powder and face cream and magazines.

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The big expense here is the refrigerators and freezes, of course. I think we’d have to allow five hundred pounds for those, and then there’s the building and the furniture—say ￡1200 the lot. That makes, say, ￡2500 for capital expenditure. If I have five thousand of my capital, I should be able to stock the shop and the workshop and employ five or six girls for a year without selling anything at all, and by that time the income should be coming in, I think. If it isn’t, well that’s just too bad and I shall have lost my money.

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I want to do this, Noel. Apart from Joe Harman and me, they’re decent people in Willstown, and they’ve got so very little. I’d like to work there for a year as a sort of self-discipline and to keep from running to seed now that I’ve got all this money. I think I’d want to do this even if there wasn’t any Joe Harman in the background at all, but I shan’t make up my mind or take any definite step until I’ve had a talk with him.

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So what I want is five thousand pounds, please, Noel. May I have it if I want to go ahead with this?

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Jean

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I got this letter five days later by the air mail. I marked the passages about her money with a red pencil, and wrote a little note upon the top, and sent it into Lester for him to read. I went into his office later in the day.“You read that letter from the Paget girl?”I asked.

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He took it up from his desk before him.“Yes. I’ve just been looking at the will. Did you draft that discretionary clause yourself?”

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“I did.”

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He smiled.“I think it’s a masterpiece. It covers us all right, if you think she ought to have this money.”

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“It’s about nine per cent of her capital,”I said.“For a commercial venture that she intends to work at whole-time herself.”

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“The testator didn’t know her, did he?”

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I shook my head.

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“She’s twenty-seven years old?”

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“That is correct.”

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“I think that we might let her have it,”he said.“It would be very extreme to do the other thing, to withhold it. We’ve got ample latitude under your discretionary clause to let her have it, and she seems to be a responsible person.”

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“I’d like to think it over for a day or so,”I said.“It seems to me to be a very small amount of capital for what she wants to do.”

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I put her letter on one side for a couple of days because I never like to take any action in a hurry. After a period of reflection it seemed to me that I would be carrying out the wishes of the late Mr Douglas Macfadden if I exerted myself to see that Jean Paget did not lose her money in this venture, and I picked up my telephone and rang up Mr Pack of Pack and Levy Ltd.

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I said,“Mr Pack, this is Strachan, of Owen, Dalhousie, and Peters. I believe you’ve had a letter from a client of mine, Miss Jean Paget.”

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“Aye, that’s right,”he said.“You’re her solicitor, are you? The one that’s her trustee?”

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“That is correct,”I said.“I’ve had a letter from her, too. I was thinking it might be a good thing if we got together, Mr Pack, and had a talk about it.”

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“Well, that suits me,”he replied.“She asked for a list of what she’d want to start up in a small way. I got a list together, but I haven’t got all the f.o.b. prices in yet.”

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I made an appointment with him for the following Friday when he expected to be in London on other business. He came to see me then at my office. He was a small, fat, cheerful man, very much of a works manager. He brought with him a brown paper parcel.

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“Afore we start,”he said,“these come in this morning.”He untied the parcel on my desk and produced a pair of alligator-skin shoes. I picked up one curiously.

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“What are these?”I asked.

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“They’re what she made herself at this place Willstown,”he said.“Did she tell you about that?”

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I shook my head, and examined them with fresh interest.“Did she make these herself, with her own hands?”

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“Made ’em with her own hands in her hotel bedroom, so she said,”he replied.

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I turned one over.“Are they any good?”

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“Depends on how you look at it,”he observed.“For selling in the trade they’re bloody awful. Look at this, and this, and this.”He pointed out the various irregularities and crudities.“They’re not even the same. But she knows that. If you take them as a pair of shoes made by a typist that hadn’t ever made a shoe before, working on her bed with no equipment, well, they’re bloody marvellous.”

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I laid down the shoe and offered him a cigarette.“She told you what she wants to do?”

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He told me what he had heard from her, and I told him some of what she had written to me; we talked for a quarter of an hour. At the end of that time I asked him,“What do you really think about her proposition, Mr Pack?”

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“I don’t think she can do it,”he said flatly.“Not the way she’s thinking of. I don’t think she knows enough about the shoe business to make a go of it.”

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I must say, I was disappointed, but it was as well to have the facts.“I see,”I said quietly.

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“You see,”he explained,“she hasn’t got the experience. She’s a good girl, Mr Strachan, and she’s got a good business head. But she’s got no experience of making shoes to sell, and she’s got no experience of keeping girls in order ’n making them bloody well work for their money. It’s not even as if she was in her own country. These Australian country girls she writes about, they’re just like so many foreigners to her. They may be willing, but they’ve never seen a factory before—they won’t have the idea at all. She’s got to learn her own job and teach them theirs at the same time. Well, she can’t do it.”

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“I see,”I said again.

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“I’d like to help her,”said the little man,“but she’ll have to change her ideas a bit. She’s on to a good wheeze, if she can put it over. I must say, when I read her letter where it says that she’s paying seventy shillings for an alligator skin uncured, you could have knocked me down with a feather. Australian shillings, too—fifty-six bob of our money. Here have I been paying a hundred and seventy, hundred and eighty shillings for a cured skin, all these years, and thinking I was getting ’em cheap at that! I said to Mr Levy, I said, couple of bloody mugs, we are.”

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“What can you suggest to help her?”I asked.

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“What I thought was this,”he said.“If she could pay the passage of a forewoman out and home, I’d let her have a girl out of my shop, say for the first year. I got a girl that’s getting restless—well, a woman she is, thirty-five if she’s a day. She’s a married woman but she isn’t living with her husband—hasn’t been for a long time. She was a sergeant in the ATS in the war, out in Egypt some of the time, so she knows about a hot country. Aggie Topp, the name is. You wouldn’t get girls playing up in any shop with Aggie Topp in charge.”

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“Does Miss Paget know her?”I inquired.

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“Oh, aye, Jean knows Aggie. And Aggie knows Jean. Matter of fact, Aggie came in yesterday and handed in her notice. I handed it back to her and jollied her along, you know. She does that every two or three months, getting restless, like I said. But I asked her then, how would she like to go out to Australia for a year to work with Miss Paget. She said she’d go anywhere to get away from standing in a queue for the bloody rations. She’d go out for a year, if Jean wants her. They all liked Jean.”

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I said,“Can you spare her?”

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“She won’t stay long, anyway,”he said.“I don’t want to lose her and perhaps I won’t. If she gets a trip out to Australia and sees that other places aren’t so good as England, then maybe she’ll come back and settle down with us again. Get it out of her system.”

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We talked about this for a time. The woman’s passages and pay while travelling would tot up to about three hundred pounds, but it seemed cheap to me if it would help the venture through the early stages. For the rest of it, Mr Pack thought Jean’s estimates of capital were on the low side, but not excessively so.“You can’t afford much mechanization in the quality shoe trade,”he said.“You got to keep changing the style all the time.”

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About the style, he suggested that they air-mailed a sample to Willstown from time to time for Jean’s party to copy. He was quite willing to do the selling for her.“Mind, I don’t know if she’ll be able to make a go of it upon the prices we can sell at,”he said.“I’ll tell her what we can buy at, and it’s up to her. But I’d like to give this thing a spin, I must say. Manufacturing’s getting so bloody difficult in this country with controls and that, one feels like trying something different.”

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I thanked him very sincerely, and he went away. I wrote all this out to Jean Paget by air mail, and I believe Mr Pack wrote to her by the same mail. She did not get these letters for some days after their arrival, because she had gone down to Rockhampton to look for the girl Elsie Peters who worked in the shoe factory there. She went economically by train, a slow, hot journey of some seven hundred miles; till then she had not realized how vast and sparsely populated a state Queensland was. The aeroplanes had dwarfed it for her; fifty-one hours in the train to Rockhampton expanded it again.

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She found Elsie Peters, and the meeting was a complete fiasco. It only lasted ten minutes. They met in a café close outside the works; as soon as Jean broached the subject of a job in the Gulf country, Elsie told her she could save her breath. It might be a good thing, she conceded, to start something in the Gulf country, but not for her. Wild horses would not drag her back again.

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Jean came away from the café relieved in one way, and yet depressed. She would not have wanted anybody in that frame of mind, but she had been counting rather heavily on this unknown woman. She was very conscious of her own lack of managerial experience; as the venture became closer difficulties loomed up which had not been quite so obvious at the birth of the idea. She spent a depressed evening in the hotel, and flew back to Cairns next day in revolt at the long train journey; she found the air fare very little more expensive.

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She found our letters waiting for her at the Strand Hotel when she got back there, and her spirits revived again. She remembered the gaunt, stern Aggie very well; if Aggie was prepared to come to Queensland for a year that really was something. I think she was beginning to feel very much alone and amongst strangers while she was waiting in Cairns for Joe Harman.

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She wrote temporizing letters to us, for she would not make her mind up about anything until she had seen Harman. She told me later that the three weeks that she spent in Cairns living at the Strand Hotel after she came back from Rockhampton were the worst time of her life. Each morning she woke up in the cold light of dawn convinced that she was making a colossal fool of herself, that she could never settle down in this outlandish country, that she and Harman would have nothing in common and that it would be much better not to meet him at all. The wise course was to take the next plane down to Sydney and get a cheap passage to England, where she belonged. By noon some rough Australian kindness from a waitress or the manageress had sown a seed of doubt in the smooth bed of her resolution, that grew like a weed throughout the afternoon; by evening she knew that if she left that country and that place she would be running away from things that might be well worth having, things that she might never find again her whole life through. So she would go to bed resolved to be patient, and in the morning the whole cycle would start off again.

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She knew the name of Harman’s ship, of course, from my letters, and she had no difficulty in finding out when it docked at Brisbane. A few discreet inquiries showed her that he must pass through Cairns to get to Willstown, and convinced her that he would have to wait for several days in Cairns because his ship docked in Brisbane on a Monday and the weekly plane into the Gulf country left at dawn on Tuesday; he could never make that connection. She had found out in Willstown that he stayed at the Strand Hotel in Cairns, and so she waited there for him.

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She wrote to him care of the shipping line at Brisbane, and she had some difficulty with that letter. Finally she said,

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Dear Joe,

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I got a letter from Mr Strachan telling me that you had been to see him while you were in England, and that you were sorry to have missed me. Funnily enough, I have been in Australia for some weeks, and I will wait at Cairns here so that we can have a talk before you go on to Willstown.

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Don’t let’s talk too much about Malaya when we meet. We both know what happened; let’s try and forget about it.

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Will you let me know your movements—when you’ll be coming up to Cairns? I do want to meet you again.

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Yours sincerely,

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Jean Paget

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She got a telegram on Tuesday morning to tell her he was staying to see Mrs Spears, the owner of Midhurst, and he would be flying up to Cairns on Thursday. She went to meet him at the aerodrome, feeling absurdly like a girl of seventeen keeping her first date.

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I think Joe Harman was in a position of some difficulty as the Dakota drew near to Cairns. For six years he had carried the image of this girl in his heart, but, in sober fact, he didn’t in the least know what she looked like. The girl that he remembered had long black hair done in a pigtail down her back with the end tied up with a bit of string, like a Chinese woman. She was a very sunburnt girl, almost as brown as a Malay. She wore a tattered, faded, blouselike top part with a cheap cotton sarong underneath; she walked on bare feet which were very brown and usually dirty; and she habitually carried a baby on her hip. He did not really think that she would look like that at Cairns, and he was troubled and distressed by the fact that he probably wouldn’t be able to recognize her again. It was unfortunate that the inner light in her, the quality that made her what he called a bonza girl, didn’t show on the surface.

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Something of his difficulty was apparent to Jean; she had wondered if he would know her while she was making herself pretty for him in her room, and had decided that he probably wouldn’t. She had no such difficulty herself for he would have changed less than she, and anyway he carried stigmata upon his hands if there were any doubt. She stood waiting for him by the white rails bounding the tarmac as the Dakota taxied in in the hot sun.

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She recognized him as he came out of the machine, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and broad-shouldered. He was looking anxiously about; his gaze fell on her, rested a minute, and passed on. She watched him, wondering if she was looking very old, and saw him start to walk towards the airline office with his curious, stiff gait. A little shaft of pain struck her; that was Kuantan, and it had left its mark on him. With her intellect she had known that this must be so, but seeing it for the first time was painful, all the same.

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She left the rails, and walked quickly across the tarmac to him, and said,“Joe!”He stopped and stared at her incredulously. He had been looking for a stranger, but it was unbelievable to him that this smart, pretty girl in a light summer frock was the tragic, ragged figure that he had last seen on the road in Malaya, sunburnt, dirty, bullied by the Japanese soldiers, with blood upon her face where they had hit her, with blood upon her feet. Then he saw a characteristic turn of her head and memories came flooding back on him; it was Mrs Boong again, the Mrs Boong he had remembered all those years.

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It was not in him to be able to express what he was feeling. He grinned a little sheepishly, and said,“Hullo, Miss Paget.”

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She took his hand impulsively, and said,“Oh, Joe!”He pressed her hand and looked down into her eyes, and then he said,“Where are you staying? How long are you here for?”

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She said,“I’m staying in the Strand Hotel.”

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“Why, that’s where I’m staying,”he said.“I always go there.”

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“I know,”she said.“Mrs Smythe told me.”

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There was much here that he did not understand, but first things came first.“Wait while I get my luggage,”he said.“We can drive in together.”

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“I’ve got a taxi waiting,”she said.“Don’t let’s go in the bus.”

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In the taxi as they drove into the town she asked him,“How was Mr Strachan, Joe?”

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“He was fine,”he said.“I stayed with him quite a long time, in his flat.”

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“Did you!”She had not known that part of it because I had not told her; I had told her the bare minimum about him since it was obvious that they were going to meet.“How long were you in England, Joe?”

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“About three weeks.”

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She did not ask him why he went because she knew that already, and it was hardly a matter to be entered on behind the taxi driver. He forestalled her, however, by asking,“What have you been doing in Australia, Miss Paget?”

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She temporized.“Didn’t you know I was here?”

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He shook his head.“All I knew was what Mr Strachan said, that you were travelling in the East. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I got your letter at Brisbane. Oh my word, you could. Tell me, what are you doing in Cairns?”

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A little smile played around her mouth.“What were you doing in England?”

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He was silent, not knowing what to say to that. He had no lie ready. They were running through the outskirts of the town, past the churches.“We’ve got a good bit of explaining to do, Joe,”she said.“Let’s leave it till you’ve got your room at the hotel, and then we’ll find somewhere to talk.”

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They sat in silence till they got to the hotel. Jean had a bedroom opening on to a veranda that looked out over the sea to the wild, jungle-covered hills behind Cape Grafton; they arranged to meet there when he had had a wash. She knew something of Australian habits by that time.“What about a beer or two?”she asked.

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He grinned.“Good-oh.”

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She asked Doris the waitress to get four beers, three for Joe and one for her; large quantities of cold liquid were necessary in that torrid place. It was symbolic of Australia, she felt, that they should hold their first sentimental conversation with the assistance of four bottles of beer.

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She dragged two deckchairs into a patch of shade outside her room; the beer and Joe arrived about the same time. When the waitress had gone and they were alone, she said quietly,“Let me have a good look at you, Joe.”

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He stood before her, examining her beauty; he had not dreamed when he had met her in Malaya that she was a girl like this.“You’ve not changed,”she said.“Does the back trouble you?”

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“Not much,”he said.“It doesn’t hinder me riding, thank the Lord, but I can’t lift heavy weights. They told me in the hospital I won’t ever be able to lift heavy weights again, and I’d better not try.”

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She nodded, and took one of his hands in hers. He stood beside her while she turned it over in her own, and looked at the great scars upon the palm and on the back.“What about these, Joe?”

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“They’re all right,”he said.“I can grip anything—start up a truck, or anything.”

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She turned to the table.“Have a beer.”She handed him a glass.“You must be thirsty. Three of these are for you.”

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“Good-oh.”He took a glass and sank half of it. They sat down together in the deckchairs.“Tell me what happened to you,”he asked.“I know you said not to talk about Malaya. It was a fair cow, that place. I don’t want to remember about it any more. But I do want to know what happened to you—after Kuantan.”

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She sipped her beer.“We went on,”she said.“Captain Sugamo sent us on the same day, after— after that. We went on up the east coast with just the sergeant in charge of us. I was sorry for the sergeant, Joe, because he was very much in disgrace, because of what happened. He never got over it, and then he got fever and gave up. He died at a place called Kuala Telang, about half way between Kuantan and Kota Bahru. That was about a month later.”

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“He was the only Nip guarding you?”he asked.

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She nodded.

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“Well, what did you do then?”

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She raised her head.“They let us stay there all the war,”she said.“We just lived in the village, working in the paddy fields till the war was over.”

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“You mean, paddling about in the water, planting the rice, like the Malays?”

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“That’s right,”she said.

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“Oh my word,”he breathed.

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She said,“It wasn’t a bad life. I’d rather have been there than in a camp, I think—once we got settled down. We were all fairly healthy when the war ended, and we were able to make a little school and teach the children something. We taught some of the Malay children, too.”

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“I did hear a bit about that,”he said thoughtfully.“I heard from a pilot on the airline, down at Julia Creek.”

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She stared at him.“How did he know about us?”

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“He was the pilot of the aeroplane that flew you out, in 1945,”he replied.“He said that you got taken in trucks to Kota Bahru. He flew you from Kota Bahru to Singapore. He’s working for TAA now, on the route from Townsville to Mount Isa. That goes through Julia Creek. I met him there this last May, when I was down there putting stock onto the train.”

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“I remember,”she said slowly.“It was an Australian Dakota that flew us out. Was he a thin, fair-haired boy?”

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“That’ld be the one.”

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She thought for a minute.“What did he tell you, Joe?”

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“Just what I said. He said he’d flown you down to Singapore.”

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“What did he tell you about me?”She looked at him, and there was laughter in her eyes.

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He grinned sheepishly, and said nothing.

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“Come on, Joe,”she said.“Have another beer, and let’s get this straight.”

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“All right,”he said. He took a glass and held it in his hand, but did not drink.“He said you were a single woman, Mrs Boong. I always thought the lot of you was married.”

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“They all were, except me. Is that why you went rushing off to England?”

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He met her eyes.“That’s right.”

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“Oh, Joe! What a waste of money, when here we are in Cairns!”

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He laughed with her, and took a long drink of beer.“Well, how was I to know that you’d be turning up in Cairns?”He thought for a minute.“What are you doing here, anyway?”he asked.“You haven’t told me that.”

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She was embarrassed in her turn.“I came into some money,”she said.“I think Noel Strachan told you about that.”

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“That’s right,”he said kindly.

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“I didn’t know what to do with myself then,”she said.“I didn’t want to go on working as a typist in a London suburb any more. And then I got the idea into my head that I wanted to do something for the village where we lived for those three years, Kuala Telang. I wanted to give them a well.”

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“A well?”he asked.

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Sitting there with a glass of beer in her hand she told him about Kuala Telang, and about her friends there, and the washhouse, and the well. Then she came to the difficult bit.“The well-diggers came from Kuantan,”she said.“I thought that you were dead, Joe. We all did.”

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He grinned.“I bloody nearly was.”

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“The well-diggers told me that you weren’t,”she said.“They told me that you’d been put into the hospital, and you’d recovered.”

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“That’s right,”he said.“I tried to find out what had happened to you, but they didn’t know, or if they knew they wouldn’t say. I reckon they were all scared stiff of that Sugamo.”

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She nodded.“I went to Kuantan. It’s very peaceful there now. People playing tennis on the tennis courts, and sitting gossiping under that ghastly tree. They told me at the hospital that you’d asked about us.”She smiled.“Mrs Boong.”

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He grinned.“But did you come on to Australia from there?”

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She nodded.“Yes.”

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“What for?”

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“Well,”she said awkwardly,“I wanted to see if you were all right. I thought perhaps you might be still in hospital or something.”

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“Is that dinky-die?”he asked.“You came on to Australia because of me?”

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“In a way,”she said.“Don’t let it put ideas into your head.”He grinned.“I’d have done the same if you’d have been an Abo.”

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“Well, you’re a fine one to talk about me wasting money,”he said.“We’d have met all right if you’d have stayed in England.”

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She said indignantly,“Well, how was I to know that you’d be turning up in England, and as fit as a flea?”

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They sat drinking their beer for some time.“How did you get here?”he asked.“Where did you come to first?”

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She said,“I knew you used to work at Wollara and I thought they’d know about you there. So I flew from Singapore to Darwin, and went down to Alice on the bus.”

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“Oh my word. You went to Alice Springs? Did you go out to Wollara and see Tommy Duveen?”

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She shook her head.“I stayed about a week in Alice, and I got your address at Midhurst from Mr Duveen over the radio, from the hospital. So then I flew up to Willstown—I sent you a wire at Midhurst to say I was coming. But they told me there, of course, that you were in England.”

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He stared at her.“Is that dinky-die? You’ve been to Willstown?”

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She nodded.“I was there three weeks.”

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“Three weeks!”He stared at her.“Where did you stay?”

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“With Mrs Connor, in the hotel.”

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“But why three weeks? Three hours would have been enough for most people.”

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“I had to stay somewhere,”she said.“If you go running off to England, people who want to see you have to hang around. You’ll probably find the Australian Hotel’s full of them when you get back.”

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He grinned,“My word, I will. What did you do all the time?”

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“Sat around and talked to Al Burns and Pete Fletcher and Sam Small, and all the rest.”

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“You must have created a riot.”He paused, thinking deeply about this new aspect of the matter.“Did you go out to Midhurst?”

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She shook her head.“I stayed in Willstown all the time. I met Jim Lennon, though.”

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The bell rang downstairs for tea.“We’d better go down, Joe,”she said.“They don’t like it if you’re late.”

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“I know.”He picked up his glass to drain it, but sat with it in his hand, untouched. At last he said,“What did you think of Willstown, Miss Paget?”

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She smiled.“Look, Joe, forget about Miss Paget. You can call me Mrs Boong or you can call me Jean, but if you go on with Miss Paget I’ll go home tomorrow.”

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He smiled slightly.“All right, Mrs Boong. What did you think of Willstown?”

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“We’ll be late for tea, Joe, if we start on that.”

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“Tell me,”he said.

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She smiled at him with her eyes.“I thought it was an awful place, Joe,”she said quietly.“I can’t see how anyone can bear to live there.”She laid her hand upon his arm.“I want to talk to you about it, but we must go and have tea now.”

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He got up from his chair, and set the glass down.“Too right,”he said heavily.“It’s a crook kind of a place for a woman.”

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They went down to tea and sat at a table together, Joe deep in gloom. When they had ordered, Jean said,“Joe, how long have you got? When have you got to be back at Midhurst?”

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He raised his head and grinned.“When I’m ready to go back,”he said.“I been away so long a few days more won’t make any difference.”He paused.“What about you?”

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“I only came here to see if you were all right, Joe,”she said.“I suppose I’ll go down to Brisbane and start looking for a boat home next week.”

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Their food came, roast beef for Joe, cold ham and salad for Jean.“What have you been doing since you came to Cairns?”he asked presently.“Been out to the Reef?”

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She shook her head.“I went down to Rockhampton once, and I went on one of the White Tours up to the Tableland, and stayed a night in Atherton. I’ve not been anywhere else.”

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“Oh my word,”he said.“You can’t go home without seeing the Great Barrier Reef.”He paused, and then he said,“Would you like to go to Green Island for the weekend?”

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She cocked an eye at him.“What’s Green Island like?”

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“It’s just a coral island on the reef,”he explained.“A little round one, about half a mile across. There’s a restaurant on it and little sort of bedroom huts where you can stay, in among the trees. It’s a bonza little place if you like bathing. Wear your bathers all the day.”

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Jean thought the little bedroom huts among the trees wanted checking up on, but the suggestion certainly had its points. They knew so little about each other; they had so much to learn, so much to talk about. Whatever else might happen if she spent a weekend in her bathing dress with Joe Harman on a coral island, they would certainly come from it knowing more about each other than they would learn under the restraints of Cairns.

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“I’d like to do that, Joe,”she said.“How would we get there?”

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He beamed with pleasure, and she was glad for him.“I’ll slip out after tea and find Ernie,”he said.“He’s probably in the bar at Hides. He’s got a boat, and he’ll run us out there tomorrow; it’ll take about three hours. We’d better start about eight o’clock, before the sun gets hot. Then I’d ask him to come out and fetch us on Monday, say.”

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“All right,”she agreed.“But look, Joe—this is to be Dutch treat.”He did not understand that term.“I mean, you pay the boat one way and I’ll pay it the other, and we both pay our own bills.”He objected strenuously.“If we don’t do that, Joe, I won’t come,”she said.“I’ll think you’re plotting to do me a bit of no good.”

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He grinned.“Too right.”And then he said,“All right, Mrs Boong, we’ll each pay our own whack.”

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He went out after tea and came back to her on the veranda half an hour later; he had found Ernie and arranged the boat, and he had bought a large basket of fruit to take with them. In the quick dusk and the darkness they sat together for some hours, talking of everything but Willstown. She learned a lot about his early life on the various stations, and about his relations in and around Cloncurry, about his war service, and about Midhurst.“It’s got a bonza rainfall, Midhurst has,”he said.“We got thirty-four inches in the last wet; down at Alice it’s a good year if you get ten inches. I’ve been asking Mrs Spears if we couldn’t build a couple of dams at the head of the creeks to hold back some of the water—one across the head of Kangaroo Creek and one on the Dry Gum.”

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“Did she agree?”

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“She’ll pay for them,”he said.“Trouble is, of course, to get the labour. You can’t get chaps to come and work in the outback. It’s a fair cow.”

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“Why is that?”she asked. She had a very good idea, herself, but she wanted to hear his views.

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“I don’t know,”he said.“They all want to go and work in the towns.”

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She did not pursue the subject; there was time enough for that. They talked of pleasant, unimportant things; she found that he was very anxious to get back to Midhurst to see his horses and his dogs.“I got a bitch called Lily,”he said.“Her mother was a blue cattle dog and she got mated by a dingo, so Lily’s half a dingo. She’s a bonza dog. Well, I mated her with another blue cattle dog before I come away and she’ll have had the litter now, so they’ll be quarter dingo. A cross between a dingo and cattle dog makes a grand dog, but you’ve got to get the dingo strain weak or they aren’t reliable. I had a quarter dingo dog before the war at Wollara, and he was grand.”

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He told her that he had about sixty saddle and pack horses on the station, but they did not seem to be as close to his heart as his dogs.“A dog comes into the homestead and sits around with you in the evenings,”he said, and she could picture the long, lonely nights that were his normal life.“You couldn’t get along in the outback without dogs.”

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At ten o’clock they went to bed, prepared for an early start in the morning. They stood together in the darkness by the entrance to her room for a moment.“Have I changed much, Joe?”she asked.

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He grinned.“I wouldn’t have known you again.”

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“I didn’t think you would. Six years is a long time.”

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“You haven’t changed at all, really,”he said.“You’re the same person underneath.”

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“I think I am,”she said slowly.“After the war I felt like an old woman, Joe. After Kuantan, I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy anything again.”She smiled.“Like a weekend at Green Island.”

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“There’s nothing to do there, you know,”he said.“You bathe and go out in a glass-bottomed boat to see the coral and the fishes.”

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“I know. It’s going to be such fun.”

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They left next morning in Ernie’s fishing boat, a motor launch with a canopy. For two hours they chugged out over a smooth sea, trolling a line behind and catching two large, brilliantly coloured horse-mackerel. Green Island appeared after an hour as the tops of coconut palms visible above the horizon; as they drew near the little circular island appeared, fringed round completely with a white coral beach. There was a long landing-stage built out over the shallow water of the reef; they landed and walked down this together, pausing to look at the scarlet and blue fishes playing round the coral heads below.

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There were no other visitors staying on the island and they got two of the little bedroom huts in among the trees; these huts had open sides to let the breeze blow through, with an occasional curtain for privacy. They bathed at once and met upon the beach; Jean had a new white two-piece costume and was flattered at the reception that it got.“It’s pretty as a picture,”he said.“Oh my word.”

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She laughed.“There’s not enough of it to fill a picture frame, Joe.”

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“Too right,”he said.“But there aren’t any wowsers here.”

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“I’ll have to look out I don’t get burnt,”she said.“I bet I’m the whitest woman that ever bathed here.”

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“You are in parts,”he observed. He stood looking at her, reluctant to take his eyes off her beauty.“You’ve been out in the sun up top, though.”

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Her shoulders and her arms were tanned; there was a hard line above her breasts, brown above and white below.“That’s where I was wearing a sarong in Malaya,”she said.“While they were building the well. In the village we used to wear the sarong up high, under the arms. It’s beautifully cool like that, and yet it protects most of you from sunburn. And it’s reasonably decent, too.”

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“Have you got it here?”he asked.

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She nodded.“I’m going to put it on presently.”

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As they turned to go into the water she saw his back for the first time, lined and puckered and distorted with enormous scars. Deep pity for him welled up in her at the sight; this man had been hurt enough for her already. She must not hurt him any more. He glanced back at her and said,“We’d better not go in more than about knee-deep. There’s plenty of sharks round here.”And then he looked at her more closely, and said,“What’s the matter?”

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She laughed quickly.“It’s the sun,”she said.“It’s making my eyes water. I ought to have brought my dark glasses.”

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“I’ll go and get them. Where are they?”

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“I don’t want them, really.”She threw herself forward in a shallow dive over the sand in about two feet of water and rolled over on her back, flirting the water from her face.“It’s marvellous,”she said. He flung himself forward, wallowed for a little, and sat beside her on the coral sand in the warm sea.“Tell me, Joe,”she said.“Do sharks really come in close like this?”

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“They’ll take you in water that’s only waist-deep,”he said.“Oh my word, they will. I don’t know if there are any here just now. Trouble is, you never can tell. Didn’t you have sharks in Malaya?”

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“I think there were,”she said.“The villagers never went out more than about knee-deep, so we didn’t. There were crocodiles in the river, too.”She laughed.“Taking it all in all, there’s nothing to beat a good swimming-pool in a hot country.”

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They rolled over in the blue, translucent water; the sun came shimmering through the ripples and made silvery lights upon the coral sand around them.“I’ve never bathed in a swimming-pool,”he said.“They make them with a shallow end, do they? Where you can sit, like this?”

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“Of course. They have a shallow and a deep end, with diving-boards at the deep end. Don’t they have swimming-pools here, in Australia?”

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“Oh my word. They have them down in places like Sydney and Melbourne. I’ve heard of station owners having them upon their land, too. But places like Cairns and Townsville and Mackay, they’re on the sea, so they don’t need a pool.”

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“Mrs Maclean’s got a pool at Alice Springs,”she said.

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“I know. They only made it a year or two ago. I’ve never seen it.”

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She rolled over on her back, and watched a seagull soaring in the thermals from the island.“You could have a pool at Willstown,”she said.“You’ve got all the water in the world, from the bore, running to waste right in the middle of the town. You could make a lovely swimming-pool right opposite the hotel.”

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“That water isn’t running to waste,”he observed.“Oh my word. The cattle drink that, in the dry.”

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“It wouldn’t hurt the cattle if we borrowed it first and used it for a swimming-pool,”she said.“It’ld taste all the sweeter.”

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“Might taste sweeter if you swam in it,”he concurred.“I don’t know about me.”

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He would not let her stay in the water more than a quarter of an hour.“You’ll burn,”he said.“Midday, like this, you can burn just as easy in the sea as on the land. You want to be careful, with a skin as white as yours.”They went up from the beach into the shade of the trees and sat smoking for a time; then they went back to their huts to put on a little more covering for lunch. Australian hotels, she had discovered, are very particular about dress at mealtimes; in Cairns even on the hottest day of summer a man without a jacket and tie would not be served in the dining-room, nor would a woman in slacks.

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Harman had arranged a light lunch for her, cold meat and fruit; she was touched by the care that he was taking to make her weekend a success. While struggling to eat a mango decently she asked,“Joe, why don’t places like Willstown have more fresh fruit? Won’t it grow?”

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“Mangoes grow all right,”he said.“We’ve got three or four mango trees at Midhurst. Aren’t there any in the town? I’d have thought there must be.”

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“I don’t believe there are. I never saw any fruit in the hotel, or anywhere on sale.”

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“Oh well, maybe you wouldn’t. People don’t seem to bother much about it. Some places have every shade tree a mango tree. Cooktown, in the early summer you drive over them, all along the road.”

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“Don’t the people like fresh fruit and vegetables? I mean, they get all sorts of skin diseases through not having them.”

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“It’s too hot for the old folks to work in gardens, like in other places,”he said.“There aren’t enough people in the country to grow things like that. We can’t even get men to work as ringers on the stations—we have to use two-thirds boongs as stockmen, or more. There just aren’t enough people. They won’t come to the outback.”

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She said thoughtfully,“There were plenty of fresh vegetables at Alice Springs.”

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“Ah, yes,”he replied.“Alice is different. Alice is a bonza little town.”

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They slept on their beds in the heat of the day after lunch and bathed again before tea; in the cool of the evening they went out to the end of the jetty and fished. They caught some sand snappers and three or four brilliant red and blue fish which were poisonous to eat and had to be handled with a glove because they stung; then tiring of this rather unprofitable sport they rolled up their lines and sat and watched the sunset over the heights of the Atherton Tableland on the horizon.“It’s a funny thing,”Jean said.“You go to a new country, and you expect everything to be different, and then you find there’s such a lot that stays the same. That sunset looks just like it does in England, on a fine summer evening.”

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“Do you see much that’s like England here?”he asked.

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She smiled.“Not on Green Island, and not much in Willstown. But in Cairns—a lot. Vauxhall and Austin motor cars parked in the streets, and politicians telling people to buy British, and the North British Insurance Company, and Tattersalls, and bank clerks in the hotel listening to ‘Itma’. Even the newsboys selling papers in the street—‘Read all about it’. Listening to them with your eyes shut, they sound just the same. They used to shout exactly like that when I lived in Ealing.”

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“Ealing’s the place near London where you lived when you were working, isn’t it?”

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“That’s right. It’s a part of London, really—a suburb.”

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“Are you going to live there again when you go home?”

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“I don’t know,”she said slowly.“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Joe.”

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In the evening light, sitting together on the jetty and watching the sunset over the calm water, she had expected him to follow up this opening, and she was disappointed that he did not do so. She had expected more than this of him, and that she didn’t get it was beginning to distress her. She had expected to spend the whole weekend on the defensive, in repelling boarders, so to speak, but so far things had worked out very differently. Joe Harman’s behaviour toward her had been above reproach; he had not tried to kiss her or even to make opportunities of touching her. But for the fact that he had been to England for no other purpose than to look for her, she might have thought he wasn’t interested in her at all. By the end of the day she was becoming seriously worried about his restraint. She had caused him enough pain already.

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It was no better when they went to bed. She would have liked to have been kissed, in the quiet darkness under the palm trees, but Joe didn’t do it. They said goodnight in the most orderly way, not even shaking hands, and they retired to their own huts with perfect decorum. Jean lay awake for some time, restless and troubled. She had taken it for granted that they would arrive at some emotional conclusion at Green Island, but if things went on as they were going they would leave on Monday with nothing settled at all. If that happened, she would have to go down to Brisbane and go home; there would be no excuse for doing anything else. The thought was almost unbearable.

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She knew that her English ways were strange to him; he could not know how very willing she was to adapt herself to his Queensland life. Perhaps, too, her money stood between them. She did not think that so sincere and genuine a man would have any scruples about marrying a girl with money, but it might well make him shy of her. She had a feeling that there was a difference between herself, a strange, wealthy, English girl, and an Australian girl from Cairns. If Joe Harman had been so much interested in a girl from Cairns, Jean thought, she would have been in bed with him by then; whereas she herself had not even been kissed.

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She lay awake for a long time.

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Things were no better the next day. They bathed in the cool of the morning in that marvellous translucent sea; they walked out upon the reef at low tide to see the coloured coral; they paddled about in a glass-bottomed boat to see the coloured fishes, and a good six inches separated them all the time. By teatime they were finding that they had exhausted their light conversation; the restraint was heavy upon both of them, and there were long awkward pauses when neither of them seemed to know what to say.

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In the evening light they decided to walk round the island on the beach. She left him at the door of her hut, and said,“Give me a couple of minutes, Joe. I don’t want to go around the beach in this frock.”She pulled one of the curtains for privacy; as she changed she thought that they had only one more day, and so much to settle that they had not started on. She would get nowhere without taking a bit of a risk, and it was worth it for Joe.

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In the half light he turned as she came out of the hut, and he was back in the Malay scene of six years ago. She was wearing the same old faded cotton sarong or one very like it, held up in a roll under her arms; her brown shoulders and her brown arms were bare. She was barefooted, and her hair hung down in a long plait, tied at the end with a bit of string, as it had been in Malaya. She was no longer the strange English girl with money; she was Mrs Boong again, the Mrs Boong he had remembered all those years. She came to him rather shyly and put both hands on his shoulders, and said,“Is this better, Joe?”

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She could never remember very clearly what happened in the next five minutes. She was standing locked in his arms as he kissed her face and her neck and her shoulders hungrily while his hands fondled her body; in the tumult of feelings that swept over her she knew that this man wanted her as nobody had ever wanted her before. She stood unresisting in his arms; it never entered her head to struggle or to try to get away. But presently, when she had breath to speak, she said,“Oh, Joe! They’ll see us from the house!”

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The next thing that she realized was that they were in her bedroom hut. She never knew how they got there, but thinking of it afterwards she came to the conclusion that he must have picked her up and carried her. And now a new confusion came to her. A sarong held up by a tight roll above the breasts will stay in place all day if given proper usage but it does not stand up very well to energetic man-handling; she could feel that it was getting loose and falling, and she had no other garment on at all.

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Standing in his arms still unresisting, smothered by his kisses, she thought, this is It. And then she thought, It had to happen sometime, and I’m glad it’s Joe. And then she thought, It’s not his fault, I brought this on myself. And then she thought, I must sit down or something, or I’ll be stark-naked, and at that she escaped backwards from his arms and sat down on the bed.

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He followed her down, laughing, and her eyes laughed back at him as she tried to hold her sarong up with her hand to hide her bosom. Then she was in his arms again and he was hindering her. And then he said quite simply,“Do you mind?”

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She reached her right arm round his shoulders, and said quietly,“Dear Joe. Not if you’ve got to. If you can wait till we’re married, I’d much rather, but whatever you do now, I’ll love you just the same.”

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He looked down into her eyes.“Say that again.”

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She drew his head down to her and kissed him.“Dear Joe. Of course I’m in love with you. What do you think I came to Australia for?”

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“Will you marry me?”

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“Of course I’ll marry you.”She looked up at him with fondness and with laughter in her eyes.“Anyone looking at us now would say we were married already.”

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He grinned; he was holding her more gently now.“I don’t know what you must think of me.”

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“Shall I tell you?”She took one of his wounded hands in hers and fondled the great scars.“I think you’re the man I want to marry and have children by.”It did not seem to matter now that the sarong had fallen to her waist.“I’d rather wait a few months and get our lives arranged a little first, Joe. Marriage is a big thing, and there are things that ought to be done, first, before we marry. But if you say we can’t wait, then I’ll marry you tomorrow, or tonight.”

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He drew her to him gently, and kissed her fingertips.“I can wait. I’ve waited six years for this, and I can wait a bit longer.”

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She said softly,“Poor Joe. I’ll try and make it easy, and not tantalize you. I oughtn’t to have done this.”She freed herself from his arms and pulled up the sarong and rolled it round.“Just get outside a minute, and I’ll put on some more clothes.”

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He said,“You don’t need to do that. I won’t do anything, except kiss you now and then. Stay that way for tonight, as if it was Malaya.”

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“Just for tonight,”she said. They went out presently and stood upon the beach in the bright moonlight, holding each other close.“I never knew a man could be so happy,”he said once.

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Half an hour later she said,“Joe, we’re both tired now, and it’s time for bed. We’ve got an awful lot to talk about, but we’ll talk better in the morning. There’s just one thing I want to say tonight. If you ever feel you can’t bear waiting any longer, you’ll tell me, won’t you? If you come to me like that, I promise we’ll get married right away, or sooner than that.”

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He said gently,“I can wait a long time for you, after this.”

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“Dear Joe. I won’t keep you waiting any more than I can help.”

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She was so tired that when she got into her hut she did not light the candle, but fell upon her bed and loosened her sarong, Malay fashion, and slept almost at once. She woke with the first light of dawn and lay reflecting upon what had happened, absurdly happy; at last, she felt, things were going to go right, between them. She got up as the sun rose and peered cautiously over to Joe’s hut and the restaurant building. There was no sign of any movement anywhere, so she put on her bathing dress and went down to the sea and had a bathe. Lying in the shallow water as the sun rose she discovered a number of bruises on her person, and reflected on the narrowness of her escape from a fate worse than death.

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She went back very quietly to her hut and put on a frock. Then she went over to the restaurant. It stood open but there was nobody about; she put the kettle on the oil stove and made a pot of tea. Carrying a cup she went to Joe’s hut and peered in cautiously.

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He was lying on the bed asleep in a pair of shorts; she stood there for some minutes, watching him as he slept. The troubled lines had vanished from his face and he was sleeping easily and quietly, like a little boy; the scars upon his back stood out with an appalling and contrasting ferocity. She stood watching him for a time with fondness in her eyes, knowing that she would see him so most of the mornings of her life to come, and the thought pleased her.

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She moved a little and put down the cup, and when she looked at him again he had opened his eyes, and he was looking at her.“Morning, Joe,”she said, wondering if she ought to be running like a rabbit.“I’ve made you a cup of tea.”

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He leaned up on one arm.“Tell me,”he said.“Did what I think happened last night really happen?”

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“I think so, Joe,”she said.“I think it must have done. I’ve got bruises all over me.”

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He stretched out one hand.“Come here, and let me give you a kiss.”

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She retreated.“Not on your life. I’ll give you a kiss when you’ve got up and had a bathe and got some clothes on.”

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He laughed.“Aren’t you going to bathe?”

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“I’ve bathed,”she said.“I’ve been up and pottering about for an hour, while you’ve been sleeping. I’ll come down and watch you.”

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He asked,“Did you sleep all right?”

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She nodded.“Like a log.”

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“So did I.”They smiled with mutual understanding.“Give me a minute, and I’ll come down to the beach.”

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She sat on the sand and chatted to him while he bathed. Then he came out and went to shave, and presently appeared in a clean shirt and a clean pair of khaki drill slacks, and she came into his arms and gave him his kiss. Then, as there was no sign yet of breakfast, they sat very close together on the beach in the cool morning breeze, talking and talking and talking. They had no difficulty in finding things to talk of now, and even their silences were intimate.

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After breakfast, as they sat smoking cigarettes over a last cup of coffee, he said,“I’ve been thinking. I’m going to give up Midhurst, soon as Mrs Spears can find another manager.”She listened in consternation; what was coming now?“If we could get a grazing farm for fattening, in back of Adelaide, at Mallala or Hamley Bridge or Balaklava or some place like that, that’s on the railway down from Alice Springs and not too far from the abattoir, that’s what I’d like to do. I think we might be able to find a place like that only about fifty miles from the city, so as we could get in any time.”

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She sat in silence for a minute; this needed careful handling.“Why do you want to do that, Joe? What’s wrong with Midhurst?”

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“It’s too far from anywhere,”he said.“All right for a single man, perhaps, but not for a married couple. Now Adelaide’s a bonza city. I’m a Queenslander, but I like Adelaide better than Brisbane. I haven’t seen Sydney or Melbourne, but Adelaide’s a bonza city, oh my word. It’s got streets and streets of shops, and trams, and cinemas, and dance halls, and it’s a pretty place, too, with hills behind and vineyards growing grapes to make the wine. We could have a bonza time if we got a farm near Adelaide.”

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“But Joe,”she said,“is that the sort of work you want to do? Just buying store cattle from the outback and fattening them? It sounds awfully dull to me. Are you fed up with the outback?”

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He ground his cigarette out on the floor beneath his heel.“There’s places that suit single men and places that suit married people,”he said.“You’ve got to make a change or two when you get married.”

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They had the breakfast table between them, separating them much too far for their newfound intimacy; she could not deal with so serious a matter as this without touching him.“Let’s go outside,”she said. So they went out and found a patch of sandy grass at the head of the beach in the shade, and sat down there together.“I don’t think that’s right, Joe,”she said slowly.“I don’t think you ought to leave the outback just because we’re getting married.”

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He smiled at her.“The Gulf country’s no place for a woman,”he said.“Not unless she’s been brought up and raised in the outback, and sometimes not then. I’ve seen some married people out from England try it, and I’ve never known it work. The life’s too different, too hard.”

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She said slowly,“I know it’s very different, and very hard. I’ve lived in Willstown for three weeks, Joe, and so I know a bit about it.”She took his hand and fondled the great scars between her own two hands.“I know what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid that a girl straight out from England, a girl like me, will be unhappy in the outback, Joe. You’re afraid that I’ll get restless and start making excuses to go and stay in the city, for the dentist, or for shopping, and things like that. You’re afraid that if we start at Midhurst you’ll be trying me too hard, and that our marriage will go wrong.”

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She raised her eyes and looked at him.“That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it, Joe?”

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He met her eyes.“Too right,”he said.“A man hasn’t got a right to try and make an English girl live in a crook place like Willstown.”

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She smiled.“It isn’t only English girls, Joe. Australian girls, girls born in Willstown, they run a thousand miles to get away from it.”

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He grinned.“That’s right. If they can’t stand it, how could you?”

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“I don’t know that I could,”she said thoughtfully. One had to be honest.“Are all the towns in the Gulf country the same?”

356

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He nodded.“Normanton’s a bit bigger; it’s got three pubs instead of one, and it’s got a church.”

357

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There was a long silence.“I’m afraid of things, too,”she said at last.

358

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He took her hand; he could not bear that she should be afraid of anything in the new life before them. She had been brave enough last night.“What’s that?”he asked gently.

359

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She said,“I’m afraid of changing your job.”She paused.“I can’t believe that that would ever work out properly, that a man should change his work because his wife couldn’t stand conditions that he could. You’ve been used to a property about two thousand square miles big, Joe, going off for three weeks at a time with packhorses and never going off your own land. What would a man like you do on a thousand acres?”

360

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He grinned weakly; she had put her finger on the spot.“Get accustomed to it pretty soon, I should think.”

361

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“I know you’d do it,”she said quietly.“You might even learn to do it reasonably well. But it could never satisfy you after the Gulf country, and cinemas won’t fill the gap, or streets of shops, or dance halls. And sometimes when we squabble—we shall squabble, Joe—you’ll think about your old life in the Gulf country, and how you had to give it up, because of me. And I shall know you’re thinking that and blaming it on me, and that will be between us all the time. That’s what I’m afraid of, Joe. I think we ought to stay up in the Gulf country, where your work is.”

362

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“You just said you couldn’t stand Willstown,”he objected.“Burketown and Croydon—well, they’re just the same.”

363

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“I know,”she said thoughtfully.“I’m not being very reasonable, am I? First I say I couldn’t stand living in a place like that, and then I say that you oughtn’t to think of living anywhere else.”

364

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“That’s right.”He was puzzled and distressed.“We’ve got to try and work it out some way to find what suits us both.”

365

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“There’s only one way to do that, Joe.”

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“What’s that?”

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She smiled at him.“We’ll have to do something about Willstown.”

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序号 英文/音标 中文解释 更多操作

Jean

[dʒiːn]

n.斜纹布(复数)jeans:牛仔裤.

Pete

[piːt]

皮特(Peter 的昵称)(m.)

tan

[tæn]

n.棕褐色;黝黑 v.晒成棕褐色

thickness

['θɪknəs]

n.厚度;浓度;层

Bill

[bɪl]

①帐单；清单;

cairn

[keən]

n.石堆纪念碑;石冢;堆石界标

satin

['sætɪn]

n.缎子

perspiration

[ˌpɜːspə'reɪʃn]

n.汗水;流汗

downstairs

[ˌdaʊn'steəz]

adj.楼下的

Annie

[ˈænɪ]

n.安妮

stretchable

[stretʃəbl]

可伸展的;可延伸的

alligator

['ælɪɡeɪtə(r)]

n.短吻鳄

brad

[bræd]

n.角钉;平头钉

stubborn

['stʌbən]

adj.顽固的;倔强的;难对付的

shilling

['ʃɪlɪŋ]

n.先令(货币单位)

saline

['seɪlaɪn]

adj.含盐的;咸的

chink

[tʃɪŋk]

n.裂缝;漏洞;硬币;叮当声;(贬)中国人

inheritance

[ɪn'herɪtəns]

n.遗传;遗产;继承;继承物

distressingly

[dɪ'stres]

令人苦恼地；悲惨地

graceful

['ɡreɪsfl]

adj.优雅的;得体的

Levy

['levi]

n.征税;召集

subconscious

[ˌsʌb'kɒnʃəs]

adj.潜意识的;下意识的

fancy

['fænsi]

n. 【C】设想；幻想；空想;

rotary

['rəʊtəri]

adj.旋转的;转动的

imperative

[ɪm'perətɪv]

adj.紧要的;必要的;祈使的

Labour

[ˈleɪbə]

n. 劳动;劳动力

labour

[ˈleɪbə]

n. 劳动;劳动力

manufacture

[ˌmænju'fæktʃə(r)]

v.(手工)制造

veranda

[və'rændə]

n.阳台;游廊

crook

[krʊk]

n.钩;曲柄杖;弯曲;骗子

litter

['lɪtə(r)]

n. 【U】杂乱物；废纸;

buckle

['bʌkl]

n.扣子;皮带扣

thoughtful

['θɔːtfl]

adj.深思的;体贴的

machinery

[mə'ʃiːnəri]

n.机械

Sergeant

['sɑːdʒənt]

n.中士;巡佐;军士;警官;(法庭或议会等地的)警卫官

dunno

[də'nəʊ]

v. (我)不知道(=I don't know)

dye

[daɪ]

n.染料;染色

correspondence

[ˌkɒrə'spɒndəns]

n.通信;信件;相符，相似;一致，相当

inlet

['ɪnlet]

n.入口

Noel

[nəʊ'el]

n.诺埃尔(姓氏;男子名;女子名)

rude

[ruːd]

adj.粗鲁无礼的;原始的;未加工的;粗糙的;猛烈的

traveled

['trævld]

adj.有旅行经验的;旅客多的,

breeder

['briːdə(r)]

n.饲养动物的人;培育植物的人;【核】增殖(反应)堆

rainfall

['reɪnfɔːl]

n.降雨;降雨量

hopeless

['həʊpləs]

adj.没有希望的;绝望的;无可救药的

sewing

['səʊɪŋ]

n.缝纫;缝制物,

expenditure

[ɪk'spendɪtʃə(r)]

n.开支

self-discipline

[self'dɪsəplɪn]

n.自律;自我约束

discretionary

[dɪ'skreʃənəri]

adj.自由裁量的;任意的， 自由决定的，酌情行事的， 便宜行事的

clause

[klɔːz]

n.条款;【语】从句

cent

[sent]

n.分

testator

[tes'teɪtə]

n.立遗嘱者

ample

['æmpl]

adj.丰富的;宽敞的;充足的

pick

[pɪkt]

采摘，挑选；

trustee

[trʌ'stiː]

n.受托人;理事

parcel

['pɑːsl]

n.包裹;部分;一块(土地)

untie

[ʌn'taɪ]

v.解开;松开

irregularity

[ɪˌreɡjə'lærəti]

n.不规则性;不规则的事物;违法;便秘

crudity

['kruːdəti]

n.天然状态;粗糙;粗鲁

typist

['taɪpɪst]

n.打字员

proposition

[ˌprɒpə'zɪʃn]

n.提议;事业;命题

restless

['restləs]

adj.不安宁的;焦虑的;得不到休息的

jolly

['dʒɒli]

a. 欢乐的；兴高采烈的；快活的;

queue

[kjuː]

n.行列

ration

['ræʃn]

n.定额;定量;配给

estimative

['estɪmət]

被估计的；有估计能力的

mechanization

[ˌmekənaɪ'zeɪʃn]

n.机械化

sincereness

[sɪn'sɪə(r)]

adj.真诚的;诚挚的

sparse

[spɑːs]

adj.稀少的;稀疏的

populate

['pɒpjuleɪt]

v.构成人口;居住于;【计】填入

aeroplane

['eərəpleɪn]

n.飞机

broach

[brəʊtʃ]

vt. 【比喻】开始讨论；提出;

managerial

[ˌmænə'dʒɪəriəl]

adj.管理的

loom

[luːm]

n.织布机

revolt

[rɪ'vəʊlt]

n.叛乱;反抗;反感

revive

[rɪ'vaɪv]

vt.使重生;恢复精神;唤醒

stern

[stɜːn]

adj.严厉的;严峻的;苛刻的;坚决的

Sydney

['sɪdni]

n.悉尼

Brisbane

['brɪzbən]

n.布里斯班(澳大利亚地名)

telegram

['telɪɡræm]

电报;

spear

[spɪə(r)]

n.矛;标枪

sunburn

['sʌnbɜːn]

n.日灼;晒伤

habitual

[hə'bɪtʃuəl]

adj.惯常的;习惯的

stigma

['stɪɡmə]

n.耻辱;污名

gait

[ɡeɪt]

n.步态;步法

shaft

[ʃɑːft]

n.轴;柄;竖井;杆状物;

rag

[ræɡ]

n.破布;碎布;破衣服;(低劣的)报纸

bully

['bʊli]

n.欺凌弱小者;开球

sheepish

['ʃiːpɪʃ]

adj.羞怯的;局促不安的;驯服的;胆怯的

impulsive

[ɪm'pʌlsɪv]

adj.冲动的;任性的

forestall

[fɔː'stɔːl]

v.领先;占先一步;先发制人，阻止，妨碍

outskirt

['aʊtˌskɜːt]

n.郊区(常用复数)

past

[pɑːst]

a. 过去的;

Cape

[keɪp]

n.岬;海角

felted

['feltɪd]

v. 把 ... 制成毡(使 ... 粘结)

conversation

[ˌkɒnvə'seɪʃn]

n.谈话;会话

waitress

['weɪtrəs]

n.女侍者;女服务员

hinder

['hɪndə(r)]

v.阻碍;打扰

thirsty

['θɜːsti]

adj.口渴的;渴望的

sip

[sɪp]

n.啜饮

disgrace

[dɪs'ɡreɪs]

n.耻辱

paddy

['pædi]

n.稻田;大怒;爱尔兰人

Malay

[mə'leɪ]

n.马来人;马来语

Singapore

[ˌsiŋgə'pɔ:]

n.新加坡

kindly

['kaɪndli]

adj.和蔼的;温和的;爽快的

washhouse

['wɒʃhaʊs]

n.洗衣房

gossip

['ɡɒsɪp]

n.流言蜚语;爱说长道短的人;闲话

indignant

[ɪn'dɪɡnənt]

adj.愤慨的;愤愤不平的

flea

[fliː]

n.跳蚤

Darwin

['dɑːwɪn]

n.达尔文(英国科学家))

Tommy

['tɒmi]

n.英国兵;抵作工资的粮食;【机】螺丝旋杆

Lennon

['lennən]

n.伦农，列农(人名)

Tableland

['teɪbllænd]

n.高原;台地

cock

[kɒk]

n.公鸡

bather

['beɪðə(r)]

n.入浴者;浴疗者

strenuous

['strenjuəs]

adj.奋发的;费力的;繁重的;积极的

whack

[wæk]

v.敲击;重打;瓜分

dusk

[dʌsk]

n.黄昏;薄暮;幽暗

chap

[tʃæp]

vt. 使(皮肤)裂口，裂开；变粗糙;

unimportant

[ˌʌnɪm'pɔːtnt]

adj.不重要的

saddle

['sædl]

n.鞍;车座;山脊;当权

canopy

['kænəpi]

n.天篷;遮篷;苍穹

troll

[trɒl]

v.反复;轮唱(歌曲);用曳绳钓;搜索;滚动

coconut

['kəʊkənʌt]

n.椰子

circular

['sɜːkjələ(r)]

adj.圆形的;循环的

fringe

[frɪndʒ]

n.流苏;边缘;次要;额外补贴

flatter

['flætə(r)]

v.奉承;恭维;取悦;显得好看

presently

['prezntli]

adv.不久;一会儿;现在;目前

pucker

['pʌkə(r)]

v.使折叠;起皱

distort

[dɪ'stɔːt]

vt.歪曲;扭曲;变形

dive

[daɪv]

n.潜水;跳水

flirt

[flɜːt]

n.调情的人;卖弄风骚的人

fling

[flɪŋ]

vt. 投，抛，扔，掷;

wallow

['wɒləʊ]

v.打滚;沉溺于;(船等)颠簸

villager

['vɪlɪdʒə(r)]

n.村民

crocodile

['krɒkədaɪl]

n.鳄鱼

translucent

[træns'luːsnt]

adj.半透明的

ripple

['rɪpl]

n. 潺潺声；起伏声;

concur

[kən'kɜː(r)]

v.意见相同;同时发生

slacks

[slæks]

【1】n.便裤;宽松的长裤;【2】名词slack的复数形式.

mango

['mæŋɡəʊ]

n.芒果

ringer

['rɪŋə(r)]

n.振铃器;敲钟人;铁环;套环;冒名顶替者;酷似的人

stockman

['stɒkmən]

n.畜牧工;仓库管理员

snapper

['snæpə(r)]

n.噼啪作响者;拍快照者;鲷鱼

newsboy

['njuːzbɔɪ]

n.报童;送报人

distress

[dɪ'stres]

n.不幸;危难;苦恼;痛苦

repel

[rɪ'pel]

vt.排斥;抵制;击退;使反感

boarder

['bɔːdə(r)]

n.搭伙者;寄宿者;滑雪者

behaviour

[bɪˈheɪvɪə]

n.行为

orderly

['ɔːdəli]

adj.有秩序的;整齐的;一丝不苟的

sincere

[sɪn'sɪə(r)]

adj.真诚的;诚挚的

scruple

['skruːpl]

n.顾忌;迟疑

whereas

[ˌweər'æz]

conj.然而;鉴于

frock

[frɒk]

n.罩袍;僧衣;女上装

fondle

['fɒndl]

v.爱;爱抚;溺爱;抚弄

usage

['juːsɪdʒ]

n.使用;用法

energetic

[ˌenə'dʒetɪk]

adj.精力旺盛的;有力的;能量的

garment

['ɡɑːmənt]

n.衣服

stark-naked

[s'tɑːkn'eɪkɪd]

adj.一丝不挂的;赤裸的

bosom

['bʊzəm]

n.胸部;胸怀;内部;内心

fondness

[fɒndnəs]

n.爱好;溺爱;喜爱

fingertip

['fɪŋɡətɪp]

n.指尖;触手可及

sarong

[sə'rɒŋ]

n.莎笼(马来人及印尼人所穿的围裙)

sooner

['suːnə]

adv. soon的比较级

loosen

['luːsn]

vt.松开;放松;放宽

bruise

[bruːz]

n.瘀青;擦伤;挫伤

potter

['pɒtə(r)]

n.陶工;陶艺家

chat

[tʃæt]

vi.闲谈;谈天

shave

[ʃeɪv]

v.刮;剃;修剪;掠过;削减

graze

[ɡreɪz]

v.放牧;(牛、羊等)吃草

fatten

['fætn]

v.养肥;使肥胖

railway

['reɪlweɪ]

n.【C】铁路

tram

[træm]

n.缆车;煤车;有轨电车

vineyard

['vɪnjəd]

n.葡萄园;酿酒庄园

outback

['aʊtbæk]

n.(尤指澳大利亚的)内地

grind

[ɡraɪnd]

v.磨;压迫;碾碎;磨得吱吱响;逐渐停顿

squabble

['skwɒbl]

v.(为琐事)争论;口角

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